Eggs Benedict Benediction

A puddled reflection cleaves 

the largest robin I’ve ever seen. Cleaves, 

or doubles. Doubles, or deifies. A worship 

of muddy knees. Hinging 

in any direction. 

Early spring is bisexual: False 

Spring, Spring of Deception, daffodils 

that don’t count because a late March 

blizzard will inevitably 

maybe come. 

But who is truer than the friend 

who pulls you anyway out of your burrow 

to a 55 degree porch brunch for one ephemeral 

moment in the sun? The most potent 

blessing I can offer you is this: 

May you go forth gooey, and wobbly, 

and sun-succulent as a homemade eggs benedict 

under clinking sober mimosas. And may you make 

5-year plans with bisexuals and the earliest

robins of Spring.

Photo of a yellow building reflected in a trash-spattered puddle. I didn’t take this picture. I also didn’t take a picture of the GIGANTIC robin I saw outside Bellingham because I was too busy shrieking in delight at the sight of it.