
Season’s first almond,
as smooth as bearskin carpets—
bird bitten too soon.

Season’s first almond,
as smooth as bearskin carpets—
bird bitten too soon.

Like cream atop pie,
little white dollops on trees—
spring is in the air.

The game is afoot:
lorikeets and humans race,
spring sun births a fruit.

Sparkling golden hour:
the sun folds in on itself;
red wine stain remains.