Spring Rarely Comes

yet we get slightly
mild less than frigid days,
the light lingers a little
longer and layers of snow start
to reveal an anthology
of litter in ditches and railroad
beds. The blaze orange glove
dates back to the T -Zone,
does only hunt. The splintered
sign once in the yard of the house
with nippy dogs, urged us
to keep Christ in Christmas.
A fat raccoon festers around
the edges, thawing after
freezing solid,  mouth parted
eternally, incensed at
high beams hitting the icy
curve in the road not at all like the
light from the full moon that cast
a crave on him to end
his hibernation.  

—Jenna Rindo, Pickett WI