Words: April, First Peepers







Just after dusk,

the moon was already high,

its quicksilver light

rippled in the brook

that flips along the edge 

of our scrubby woods.

I heard one peeper,

then another, and another, 

blow their wild love song

to Spring, to the world,

oblivious of the scope

of our human cares,

oblivious to everything

but their need to go on.

2 comments on “Words: April, First Peepers

  1. Christine Lee Moore says:

    Sometimes I want to be like the peeper.

  2. Do you know Mary Oliver’s “Pink Moon, the Pond”? Look it up if you don’t. Probably my favorite poem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.