Possum Feet
The leaves are piled
in the backyard bin
against the time
for planting beds
of spring flowers.
Cold November has
turned warm
and now it rains
steadily filling up
the streams against
the coming ice --
now compacting the
leaves by inches
bringing them closer
back into the earth
another time.
When the snow covers
and melts and
falls again and melts
again across the winter
—gradually the leaves
will shrink, and the
overflowing bounty
of fall will look as if
each night someone was
sneaking out a handful.
The possum likes
the leftovers
dumped in on top
of the leaves
an homage
to decay adding
weight to the mix
of the ever settling mass.
Deep within as
November turns to
December and the
heavy snow of
January covers — the
heat will build
inside the nest--
an effective
irony to the deep snow.
Under the growing
cap of snow this
very heat will burn
like a furnace in February
dissecting each fiber in
a wormy bacterial furry.
The ice of March
and early April
will crust over
the shriveled heap
encapsulating in
cold patience
waiting like a parent
for the warmth
of spring.
It is always
without seeing
that the day
comes when there
is more warmth
on the skin
than cold — it
just arrives — a hoped
for guest.
Anxiousness comes
with it to dig
the dirt, to peel
off the top layers
of rotting leaves,
and reach into the
composted earth
that was once
sun drenched leaves,
kitchen scraps, and
possum feet.
East Lansing
November 21, 2004
East Lansing Series
©2004 Possum Feet — Joseph W. Yarbrough
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.
in the backyard bin
against the time
for planting beds
of spring flowers.
Cold November has
turned warm
and now it rains
steadily filling up
the streams against
the coming ice --
now compacting the
leaves by inches
bringing them closer
back into the earth
another time.
When the snow covers
and melts and
falls again and melts
again across the winter
—gradually the leaves
will shrink, and the
overflowing bounty
of fall will look as if
each night someone was
sneaking out a handful.
The possum likes
the leftovers
dumped in on top
of the leaves
an homage
to decay adding
weight to the mix
of the ever settling mass.
Deep within as
November turns to
December and the
heavy snow of
January covers — the
heat will build
inside the nest--
an effective
irony to the deep snow.
Under the growing
cap of snow this
very heat will burn
like a furnace in February
dissecting each fiber in
a wormy bacterial furry.
The ice of March
and early April
will crust over
the shriveled heap
encapsulating in
cold patience
waiting like a parent
for the warmth
of spring.
It is always
without seeing
that the day
comes when there
is more warmth
on the skin
than cold — it
just arrives — a hoped
for guest.
Anxiousness comes
with it to dig
the dirt, to peel
off the top layers
of rotting leaves,
and reach into the
composted earth
that was once
sun drenched leaves,
kitchen scraps, and
possum feet.
East Lansing
November 21, 2004
East Lansing Series
©2004 Possum Feet — Joseph W. Yarbrough
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.