spring snarls.

Spring chill snarls under the duvet catching me by ankle

The one that folds under strain and throbs with the low pressure.

It drags me out of bed in to the silvery sunlight, lunar landscape

To hear the birds are twittering, see the snow dunes have all but melted.

Spring so alike, still has the dappled pelt of winter.

what if

What if we lived in that house and 

The pond was full of fish.

We could pack a basket, a lump of butter, a hunk of bread, rods on shoulders.

Hooking so many we wouldn’t even bother with a bobber.

And when we were sick of catching fish, we could throw down our rods

Ramble down the hill and pick all the raspberries we could ever eat.

Then in the winter we could drill a hole in the ice and

Yell in to the deep, Hey fish! How’s it going?

What if, what if, what if

Wishes were fishes.