I roll through sunshine like dogs roll in grass,
Metallic as thin electroplate,
Till I smell like ozone, disguised by glare
In iris air. Purplish.
So much bright light on vitex twigs
Might be ice at higher latitudes.
Birds converge in the tree, migrating.
Their song cracks like melting ice.
This is the glaze springtime soon will break.
Ann Birch lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Her recent work appears in The Ocotillo Review, Grim & Gilded, The Bookends Review, and Adanna Literary Journal.
