Last Frost

the birds are back

rattling through

the hedge

and the toad

is hiding

under the rhubarb again

the frogs

have decided to

surface

from a long Winter

of breathing

through their skin

on the unctuous

pond’s bottom

I am reeling

in washing

on a good day

for drying

and

the jay is calling

most urgent

of birds

to a magpie

the seeds are in,

the beds

dug over:

what else is there

now

but to

wait for

the last frost

to visit

and leave

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