for Rosi, who is

Nature needs no wand to cast
spells of beguiling green,
nor a hat from which to pull rabbits
by the dozens, nibbling new shoots
shot from the earth like a shock
of flowers from up the sleeve
of my garden. April might
delight in a bit of misdirection,
getting me to see one thing marvelous
in bright morning sun
before sawing the day in half
with a blast of winter cold;
and May enjoys her sleight-of-hand, too,
conjuring bouquets of tulips
from behind my back
wherever I look; but the trick
that dazzles most is the simplest:
Hypnotizing me (easy me, willing me!)
to believe once again the magic of things
seeing the world through your eyes
come spring.


© by Mike Orlock.
Used with the author’s permission.