PERCHED PARCHED BUTTERFLY

The First Morning of March

The Earth takes her time,

slowly and surely

putting her green clothes back on

from where they were stripped.

She spent the cooler night mentally preparing herself

for the anger of winter to lose itself to warmth.

I, her wife, sit out here with her for a while, saying nothing

while saying everything at once. She is a thousand words

and histories and bygone memories of when

she used to be called "Eden",

but she keeps her body going

by doing the human body good.

I hear all those secrets in her breath now.