Rites of Spring
The neighborhood tabby and her annual litter
scamper out of sight like ghosts in pilfered slippers.
Bees are sheathed like fingers in the foxgloves.
Young ferns unfurl their curved stems like tongues.
Two houses down a fat man and the mother he hates
have barricaded their front door with crates.
No one comes or goes for days at a time.
Roses in the yard blaze and climb.
At the foot of a pear tree, mama cat skulks,
stalking a carefree squirrel who dares her to pounce.
She calls his bluff with a thud, then flounces home
with jaws full of supper, trailing drops of blood.
6 thoughts on "Rites of Spring"
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I love how you describe the nature around you. I especially love the mentions of the stray momma cat. Well done!
That second verse hit me. Awesome poem, as usual!
I like how the human part of the poem is sandwiched by what nature and animals are doing. That middle part is kind of devastating and the last line too. Like Wendy said, awesome poem, as usual!
I really enjoyed this, and thought having that middle rhyme of “thud/blood” in the last section was really great.
This poem has a slight macabre tone – puppies scamper like ghosts, ferns unfurl their tongues (great sound, by the way), the fat man hates his mother, barricades them in the house, and the visceral last stanza with its trail of blood. A unique twist on the usual imagery of spring.!
love “Bees are sheathed like fingers in the foxgloves” and “pilfered slippers.” some domestic and animal violence lurking