Springtime

just like drowning

only faster



just like slipping

only quicker



the ice at your knees

brace the sand at your neck



and noone can see

down the well

Handles

Nothing can hold

Stars moon sun rain

It only seems like that

Because you

Haven't seen this before

February

the rocks are slippery

when you do not climb

the fish are silent

wherever you swim


you can't find the handle

on the balls in play

when the noise multiplies

out of the field