Eight Days in March
3-7
An oxidized tin roof
slants across the lean-to
picking up a matte glimmer of daylight.
Shafts of sun
begin to arrow through the gaps
in winter’s last tier of firewood.
3-8
Thin patches of spring snow
cling like lichen to the northern slope,
a steep landscape of granite,
frost-bleached crab grass, leafless brush,
and for a moment,
the optical illusion of a wolf.
3-9
On the plateau of the old cow pasture
the snow is gone.
A steep hike rewarded
with warm sun
and the buzz of honey bees.
3/10
A tentacled iris lies just beneath the mulch that was dutifully applied to the flower bed last fall. It has shoved a lime-green spear up though the frozen crust, testing the resistance.
3/11
It rains with abandon.
Four deer stand out in the open,
coats dark with the wet–
watching me gather
kindling from the porch.
3/12
Prunings from the apple trees
have attracted the deer
who’ve made a mess
of the neatly piled branches,
foraging.
3/13
Towering firs
sway drunkenly outside the window.
The chimney pipe swallows wind
as I strike a match to light the morning’s fire.
It huffs sulfur at my face
and blows out the flame.
3-13
We dig
out the oils
molds, stick mixer,
steel pan, the scale
and the lye.
Soap’s on!
Sue Ellis lives in writes near Mt. Spokane in Washington State. Some credits include Christian Science Monitor, Prick of the Spindle and Blueprint Review.