And don’t forget to take some time
To stand beneath the snap
And shuffle of a canvas awning,
On one of those rare hazed
Late-February days, stunned with sun
And runneled with claggy snowmelt,
When last year’s trash and coyotes and raccoons
That didn’t make it peek their hard-
Boned angles through the roadside thaw.
Listen. The birdsong has changed.
Cardinals flit and keen for mates
Among the empty sticks.
It would have changed with or without you.
But you are here to hear it.
Great stuff—it reminds of of Heaney’s “Postscript,” perhaps just the opening line?