Spring 2025 Poem

Spring 2025
by Sandra Steingraber

In the dirt hospital a crocus
wakes up from a year-long
coma and looks around.

Then the migrants arrive
and fill the trees with
their fandango parties.

None of them has heard
the election results so I
have to tell them.

To every wren, leaf,
And stunned bee:
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry