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B.J. Buckley

Fool's Spring

Every year it buries us under sinuous drifts

just when our tattered faith has been repaired

by nesting owls and sudden crocus and the bright

return of the dawn chorus at first light,

white beast heavy and wet and howling –

the teeth of it tear at branches that withstood

every winter gale, spruce and cottonwood

felled in their first green burning,

early lambs in their birth blood

ice-locked to the ewes' wet bellies. Dare

to drive shirtless out to check the cattle

in hot afternoon, be found at dark in the rift

of some coulee, frozen to sleep, death-rattle

blizzard wind, the radio still singing.


B. J. Buckley has taught in arts-in-schools and communities programs throughout the West and Midwest for more than four decades. She has recent and forthcoming work in Plant-Human Quarterly, Vita Poetica, Sugar House Review, Calyx, and Whitefish Review. Her chapbook, In January, the Geese, won the 35th Anniversary Comstock Review Poetry Chapbook contest and will be published this spring.


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