An Easter Poem

Two Kinds of Wind

The strong morning sun ignites the drab bark

of swaying skeletons in my yard

bony arms graceful in a tai chi dance

harmonic in clear morning’s breaths

a mute shout-out to the Easter Bunny:

"Hurry with your little brown eggs, you little shit

bring with you the heat that makes our sap rise"

While I, at my keyboard, feel the gas rise,

silently fart with noise-some gusts, 

driving the normally nonjudgmental cats

to flee the room.