Songs of Spring
In fall, when the last leaf surrenders, I walk roadside ditches in search of tall feathery grass and place stone markers at the roots.
When the snow has melted, the savage creeks overflow, and the orioles are at the oranges, I will walk behind the plow searching for arrowheads and spearheads. I will pick up rocks from the furrows to add to the rock wall. The sun will nudge the damp earth to thread the acorns and chestnuts. I will trace my steps from last fall, spreading open the tall dried stems looking closely for last year’s markers, where new purple shoots poke through. And I will eat sweet wild asparagus for weeks.
at the end of the road
i leave a rock cairn
so you will find me