Light seeps across the land
opening another day. Robins
sing the garden awake, rustle
in the thicket and couple
Wild liriope has spread, choking
viburnum and pine. We scrape
away mud and brick, sort
tangled roots, rake
and unearth: a brass ring,
some broken beads, a child’s
Wind frees maple spinners easily.
Hundreds whirl down, glints of yellow
gutter our hair with crowns. You whistle
a little out of tune. I know the song
and fly to an opening beside you.