April Chores – Jane Kenyon

When I take the chilly tools
from the shed’s darkness, I come
out to a world made new
by heat and light.

The snake basks and dozes
on a large flat stone.
It reared and scolded me
for raking to close to its hole.

Like a mad red brain
the involute rhubarb leaf
thinks its way up
through loam.

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