there’s a spring smell
creeping into this
blue winter morning.
a warm odor of
cut grass and rain-coats.
smoke curls away from
me, tangling in the
thickness of the air.

sitting on this bank,
the lush ferns fall
away and the earth
feels cool and soft, i
notice the currents,
notice how my brain
is like this river
rushed and
recirculating
waiting and for what
will never come.

Jesse Maizlish

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cut-grass-and-rain-coats/