[vernal equinox, northern hemisphere]
The yule has turned
A quarter past
To this three-sixtyfived,
White spring equinox,
And six legged we two
Walk once again the path to
Carrot cairn.
At the first of three
I bid the silent tree
A fingerpost toast,
A triple tap:
For my quickened feet that
Bring me here and wander yet,
For living loved in hope,
For absent friends alive
As mind’s moment.
Angled canine brows
Question my ritual:
C’mon then, let’s go!