Spring Clean

Olivia Macdonald

Outside, our filth is unearthed

as winter recedes

and everything is a tired shade of brown.

This is the midway

when the pendulum swings

between the purity of dead white winter

and the lusciousness of August. 

The air is not quite fresh

as April's fungi and mold

heave and ho tiny lungfuls of decay.

The sky, soon cornflower blue,

is just recovering from a long bout 

of iron cloud days 

and May's roadsides are lined with our carelessness,

even as eager green sprouts 

push their way through the spiritless fallow 

that covers the garden like brown paper packages