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Eight Days in March<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3-7<\/p>\n An oxidized tin roof<\/p>\n slants across the lean-to<\/p>\n picking up a matte glimmer of daylight.<\/p>\n Shafts of sun<\/p>\n begin to arrow through the gaps<\/p>\n in winter’s last tier of firewood.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3-8<\/p>\n Thin patches of spring snow<\/p>\n cling like lichen to the northern slope,<\/p>\n a steep landscape of granite,<\/p>\n frost-bleached crab grass, leafless brush,<\/p>\n and for a moment,<\/p>\n the optical illusion of a wolf.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3-9<\/p>\n <\/p>\n On the plateau of the old cow pasture<\/p>\n the snow is gone.<\/p>\n A steep hike rewarded<\/p>\n with warm sun<\/p>\n and the buzz of honey bees.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3\/10<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 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.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3\/11<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It rains with abandon.<\/p>\n Four deer stand out in the open,<\/p>\n coats dark with the wet–<\/p>\n watching me gather<\/p>\n kindling from the porch.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3\/12<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Prunings from the apple trees<\/p>\n have attracted the deer<\/p>\n who’ve made a mess<\/p>\n of the neatly piled branches,<\/p>\n foraging.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3\/13<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Towering firs<\/p>\n sway drunkenly outside the window.<\/p>\n The chimney pipe swallows wind<\/p>\n as I strike a match to light the morning’s fire.<\/p>\n It huffs sulfur at my face<\/p>\n and blows out the flame.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3-13<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We dig<\/p>\n out the oils<\/p>\n molds, stick mixer,<\/p>\n steel pan, the scale<\/p>\n and the lye.<\/p>\n Soap’s on!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sue Ellis<\/strong> lives in writes near Mt. Spokane in Washington State. Some credits include Christian Science Monitor, Prick of the Spindle<\/a> and Blueprint Review<\/a>.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 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 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3108","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3108","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3108"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3108\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3110,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3108\/revisions\/3110"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3108"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3108"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3108"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"