Belogged, befogged, and begoggled

This Spring Mars springs from the spoils
of winter ruins and sends a motorized
snake down the clogged sewer shaving
the random roots obstinately finding
like foraging ants every tiny fissure
in a friable underground infrastructure.

The flowers Mars forces the mad dog
tramples frothing spittle quick nimble
and legs akimble on a first clear warm
day with her slimy green tennis ball
tossed to fetch tossed to fetch tossed
little daylilies looking a bit bedraggled.

The dog’s form holds Spring’s unfolding
and stays true to its arbitrary erratic
no man’s land of free yard garden room
where the dogs come and go speaking
of portobello and Punchinello.

A march hare muddles up straw
hatted mushing spring riddles
that scare off common readers
until Mars springs now forward
and the dogs are late for work.

The gold movie lion his iron stare
and lush loamy mane says Augh!
roar from which the lambs retreat
but Leo did not bellow for peace
bells pealed the turn of the Hun.

And now this ruddy Spring heralds
with reels and boisterous calls
to protect the sprouts from passing
rituals another year gone belogged
befogged and begoggled.