once a decembered maytown [but the fallen quince leaves dear]
birds can be everywhere at once northern
harrier all winter long guarding the plot of dormant
strawberries and asparagus when, actually, some habits are unaccountable.
like enjoying interferences, the iridescence caused by this. and you
winter bird beside the woodstove caused the jar to crash
and crackle into bits of undoved. arrival.
something nasturtium of our whereabouts. every hellebore
bloomed and crabapple. blossoms out-pinked with never asking—
why the hops wasn’t brewed, or the kiwi coaxed
to supply what quinces couldn’t satisfy. an empty chicken
coop and untilled field where st. john’s wort grew
but was not steeped. remember how
that lime-green nook incensed our nest.
a careful task of ten acres to northern
harrier who stalked all winter long. she should
have gone south, instead waited for your birth
against the radiant floor. by photograph
that captured the unjustified shadow
hovering above the pregnancy
plant who bloomed a thousand times. to begin
with broken glass and shaking.
our anxiety to rustle certainty—
you, proper hawk of uneven
grass and one-eyed horses.
y madrone currently lives and works in Chicago, IL via Olympia, WA via Detroit, MI via Baku, Ahzerbaijan. Other work can be found or is forthcoming in The National Poetry Review, RHINO, American Letters & Commentary, Columbia Poetry Review, Cloudbank & So to Speak.