Poor fools! Shivering but starting its
percolation, sap begins to rise in February.
It has listened to the light, like others:
young shoots and lovers in strappy gowns
with bare legs and backs who beat the dull
winter ache; no badger in a snug, earthen den
or splenetic suffering impacted cold.
They are visionaries, line of other-sighted
folk touching each other’s shoulders,
taking deep steps together in the dark.