after pruning grapes in winter

kee jaa gigrrijaa filled dawn

     downtempo

sound

seep

            ing

                        ing

                                    ing

sleep ing in

     water sprinkle

plash bark dust bath.

the little ones pleach

            apple yellow

irotollak frisson

            bird dew squish.

            A tugboat crow lands

pushes off in creosote

            dress

   high in drifting fir.

a hummer comes as close

            as a baseball pitch

to drink from the brim

            of my blue Los Angeles

               Dodgers cap

(you don’t often see them

   this far north

you see SF Giants

and S Mariners

and we used to see

P Beavers

infrequently, but still).

the keens and leeks

            trill and cheep

   haphazard lines

zig

            zag

   ging

spring

            forth

                        com

ing

loquacious

red clippers and blue rakes

dark mud-brown enfilades

with light soot patches.

get springy not yet,

            yet,

on the horizon,

            we hear lines

            of

ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee’s

coming.