Spring, 2019

​For all I know they do
not exist, the spring
peepers, because I
have never seen one
and may die before
or because of it, as
love, which I have
heard most clearly
in the dark, (sometimes--
the embaressment of it--
on all fours or on knees)
but not seen
and left to imagination
filled all the holes
the dark might dig
grown mightier than
its form, so that
the sky could not
contain it
nor the heart, and both
breaking as they may
in rain or jaggedness
saturated the earth and
melted the last snow.
Here, among this
insistent new green
I do not believe more
than I did, forced
to put faith in nothing
surrounded by everything
buried in the song.