incantation

that gentle, disarming spring

wind 

draws the smell of dew 

from the ground

refracts memories, injecting

a tonal softness felt in every

drop of rain

now tepid, almost harmless,

the soil remembers 

the shape of your feet, the

stride between each step, 

the cadence of your gait, 

it's just by luck that this 

loamy planet with its 

empty plains should

receive you 

and the wonder you 

inspire into its star-ridden 

skies

for there is your true audience

the ache of February

my, how the birds' calls work collaterally to

form something savage on overcast days

a cacophony of choral sounds, a canopy

of chirping and croaks, a debilitating 

yearning in the way their voices

come together

indifferent among the trees, each 

voice carries another's, slipstreams of 

sounds reaching doorsteps, the ears of 

the neighborhood ringing,

    ringing,

        ringing,

with the indiscriminate ache 

of February, a form of tinnitus

often misunderstood