Quiver

Quiver,
the tender leaves
on a morning breeze
no longer winter
not quite spring

Quiver,
the yellow violas
whose faces
crowd cheek-to-cheek
forming a new sun

Quiver,
the weathered bark
slapped
by wind and rain
ice and snow

Quiver,
a clutch of bluebird eggs
under a brood patch
tapping their way
to life and flight

Quiver,
the tender places
touched
in the early morning hours

asleep, awake, alive