Down the street, the shop sign changes
From Closed till Spring
to a countdown.
Today is: Only 26 More Days Till Ice Cream.
We believe the pale strawberries at the grocer’s,
buying their whispered stories
of lazing all day in the sun
though we’ve been lied to before
and already know they taste like cool, damp cardboard.
Besides all this, the obvious things:
Muddy green tractor hauling manure
to the field still edged in snow.
And then there’s the robin in my yard,
carrying his little sandwich board back and forth.