Spring brings more than can be—
Blossoms melting into soil,
Seedlings crowding for sunshine.
I find the lamb
By the broken wall,
Abandoned or lost or both,
Castaway quadruplet,
Victim of abundance.

How his tail shakes
As he takes the bottle,
Sucking the milk dry.
Amongst the flush of
Chickweed he is sated,
And curls close to my boot,
Self-adopted in the April sun.
Life wishing to live.

Some people believe in death!
The lamb naps while
I nudge a walnut hull,
Last autumn’s spring,
A sphere of tree.
Who could fathom such a thing?
Within the cathedral of my legs,
The lamb is already dreaming.