This is for you, oh shopping bags,
translucent beige and pearl-green,
caught up, netted like fish
in the bare treetops. Heralds
of Spring in the city–you survive
like those other harbingers,
the dandelions, soon to burst
from every sidewalk crevice.

I know you’re a defilement
and long to climb up and weed you
out, yet there’s something in me
joys at your homeliness, your
wayward beauty. Tribe of truants,
someday soon may you float
free over the gray snow, black ice
and the hungry sparrows.

Geraldine Zetzel