Like Straw Now, April 1
Like straw now,
heavy marsh grasses
lie useless, broken,
trees without a leaf
circle dark water,
mere black skeletons,
yet through the open window
hundreds of peepers surprise
with loud singing, under
a sun there to waken,
like a curtain going up on
this stage of earthtime,
monotonous music
a sharp stroke of color
across a nearly dead drama.