What Remains Vivid Now

the memory of the pansy, bold faced, persisting

through whiplash weather.
March 14: snow.
March 15: storm of pollen

over the mountains,
across the flats,
down into the valleys —

everywhere,
everything,
flourishing
all at once.

It was my first hay fever,
I think, but it is hard
to think back.

So much happens each day.