Sonnet for the April Full Moon
Hail, Lady Moon, at leaf’s first exploding
when green emerges from tightly wound scrolls.
Here by black stream lie two dead baby moles.
Over vine-choked elm, kestrel is gliding,
seeking hare (under laurel abiding).
Garter snake darts in and out of veiled holes.
A stag guards a herd of does and unsteady foals.
Princess pine springs through mess of last year’s mast,
and dry twigs crackle where wintergreen sprouts.
Mayflies bobble on updrafts of clear air.
All new being rises from what was past,
yet coyote nurses no secret doubts,
nor halts to ponder what is just or fair.