New green strewn
with severed white
tongues of magnolia,
relentless advance
of the spring not taking
no for an answer.
Temporary guest, always
so reassuring & sinister,
just a drip in geologic time—
less than nothing.
Your deep thoughts
will not be dug up
with your bones, say nothing
of paper & soft tissue.
We spend half our lives
decaying, thanks
to the criminal sun.
Primavera gets up in your face
like a loud dress.
Remember this moment,
as long as you live;
the grooved mat
of Dickinsonia like
a fig-leaf
on significance.
Imagine a Mesozoic conifer:
you cannot; the universe
is lost on us.
