Earthworms and Decay
by Greg Budig
Spring is wet with mud.
Thawing fields smell thick with
earthworms and decay.
Black, brown, and well-worn shades of amber.
Landscapes emerge from
crusts of tainted snow.
The fog has entombed an atmosphere of
change. The world is gray and blurred.
The wet cold air climbs under your skin
and into your bones and sits there for a while
Spring arrives in disguise. Coats of snow worn
in confusion and dismay. Soon it melts into the river.
The passing of the equinox is complete.
The sun stays to visit us and spend
the afternoon.
The End.
Thawing fields smell thick with
earthworms and decay.
Black, brown, and well-worn shades of amber.
Landscapes emerge from
crusts of tainted snow.
The fog has entombed an atmosphere of
change. The world is gray and blurred.
The wet cold air climbs under your skin
and into your bones and sits there for a while
Spring arrives in disguise. Coats of snow worn
in confusion and dismay. Soon it melts into the river.
The passing of the equinox is complete.
The sun stays to visit us and spend
the afternoon.
The End.
Greg Budig is a writer, Illustrator, and poet living in Minnesota. He is constantly attuned to the the seasonal changes in nature, and in the social discord of society and the world. He says, "Poetry has comforted me over the last few years. It's also saved my life. Never underestimate the power of words and language."