this week the rain rinsed all the snow
out of the yard leaving the grasses caught
unawares—separate blades going in every
which way, not yet the solidarity of a spring turf
and there reflecting April\'s sun in S.O.S.
are my reading glasses lost in November
while running from the car, found in surprisingly
good shape, happy to fold its arms again
next to the bowl of oranges, ever patient while I
steep the tea and joining me on the wide chair to read
the Times, a little shocked by the changes in Uganda,
whispering creel, a five letter word for trout basket