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She loved lilies, her cowboy,
a good laugh, and every shade of green—
lived many years without him,
now in bones beside him
with the river’s melody
beneath them both, serene.
March 20, the first buzz of spring—
Spring—like the trumpeting of lilies,
cherry blossoms, birthdays,
and new spring green, only lasts so long—
but like an Irish ballad, or an old Welsh song
sung from memory—
the missing her goes on,
evergreen.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
He survives on rats and pool water,
evades coyotes and heat,
and taunts our Siamese through the patio door.
He’s not quite John the Baptist,
eating locusts and wild honey,
but that fur looks like
it could have been nicked from a camel,
clumps dyed white and black.
And, he does have that dry, warning, desert-y voice, too—
calling out, Phoenix, get your shit together—
it’s about to rain fire. One Who is coming
is mightier than Spring.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
What’s Going On? Equinox: Signs of Spring