March-ing

The south wind took me on wood walk

Through the fields I share with the deer

Who were there having dinner and drinking

the sunset.

The woods were haunted with spirits

and fallen trees and the crossing of

all who live above ground

and below it.

The dogs found the rushing stream

which used to be invisible.

And now dances through the grasses

running through and away

from here.

Muddy and wet. Smelly

and drunk on fresh air.

Flushing pheasant and sniffing

life's leftovers, the old dog found

the spring

in his step.