The earth thawing, 
the thick snow that covered it 
all winter melting: 
my feet sank in the mud, 
past the spiny oak root that stands 
firm under the sun, 
old grass, yellow and brown-- 
sinking 
beneath layer and layer, 
till I became part of the earth: 
roots that hold their nectar till spring, 
rocks that jangle 
in the stream down the hill, 
carcasses of earthworms 
that once flourished beneath flowers. 
And my foot lifted, 
as the earth will lift 
in March, 
covered so long in her snowy slumber 
and begins to dream of green. 

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