Walking around

the yard in the sun

looking at birds

after the long winter,

selfish and dark,

mourning your loss.

The usual: thrush,

starling, chickadee,

pine siskin with

dull yellow waking

on its wings. You

should be with me.

The sound of sod

drying out, a slow

sizzle. A zephyr.

I close my eyes so

my face will feel it.

I should see you

when I open them.

The quaking aspen’s

bare branches cleave

equinox blue. A rabbit

disappears beneath

that hideous old spruce.

---

JIM RICHARDS’ poems have been nominated for Best New Poets 2015, two Pushcart Prizes, and have appeared recently in Prairie Schooner, South Carolina Review, Juked, Comstock Review, Poet Lore, and Texas Review, among others. He lives in eastern Idaho’s Snake River valley, and in 2013 he received a fellowship from the Idaho Commission on the Arts. To read more of his work visit www.jim-richards.com.