Spring Clothing

All the time we are leaving

When we should be staying.

All the time we are going places

When right here is exquisite. After all,

Trees are still trees in Japan or Midway

Lakes are still lakes in France or Midway

The world’s still the world

No matter where you go

So I’ll sit on my doorstep

And drink in the air

Watch the ash trees bashfully

Blow-dry their hair

And converse with the birds

As best as I can

(Their language too wondrous

For me to understand)

Thinking, “Fine spring morning

You were made to wear,

Shaped like my body,

You’re far too perfect to die in.”