FIRST FLAGS OF MARCH
This is for you, O plastic bags,
translucent beige and pearly-green,
caught up, netted in the bare treetops.
You’re the heralds of city Spring–
like those other harbingers
soon to come–the dandelions
bursting out of every sidewalk crevice.
Even as we know you’re ugly,
a defilement, and long to clean up
or weed out, something in me joys
in your boldness, your homeliness,
its wayward beauty. Tribe of truants,
ready to party, may you float free
over the dirty slush and the sparrows.
So vivid and true. Pat