Perennials

she believes in perennials she collects old things
she has patience like a prairie reaching up toward monarch wings
she believes in the spring

she believes in perennials tries to dig a hole
to lie down with warm memories but the ground’s too hard and cold
she believes in the spring

pale light awakes me another early morn
two barred owls calling both distant and forlorn

she believes in
she believes (heaves)
in the spring