gnarled charcoal branches and crystal fans of frost pattern winter’s closed curtains only a faded red pasture gate a stop sign at the end of the lane a worn denim sky snag the unending fabric of white and grey lately my shoulders never unclench everything is hunched bent over (hello new green) ear to the ground (hello earthworm scrunch) eyes closed (hello freed toes) servile (but soon) yellow coltsfoot will push through gravel on the side of the road flocks of robins will bounce over the softened, speckled lawn lilac buds will pop between last year’s unpruned remnants and I will inhale melted snow and breathe out wild roses forgetting again the wait
Copyright 2025 Katie Miller
A version of this poem was published in the Spring edition of the Heaven on Main Street zine, thanks to natural beauty creator extraordinaire Taylor Foster. Her products lift my spirits, as does she.