These pandemic days begin in birdsong,
night herons nest loblollies,
cardinals crisscross shore,
geese squonk morning muster.

Time to return to ourselves.
Time to return to this odd mix
of fear and leafing. Clover pinks,
iris points, buttercups riot fields.

They ease us toward the end
of our own flowering, remind us
how what dazzles in dawn
by nightfall folds and fades.