Daria Troitska, Divination, 2020
Digital art
Courtesy of the artist
Artist Instagram
Then, the first hint of spring. Despite dirty snow
lingering in shadows. Dead grass frozen hard.
There—the soft fuzz of pussy willow buds peeked
through slits in brown casings. Catkins,
silvery gray, no bigger than a pomegranate seed
emerging from bare branches. Named
after the Dutch word katteken, kitten’s tail.
Tucked under wool blankets, my bed beneath
the east facing window, I listened to them rattle
in the north winds and rap against the pane.
Once I woke from a dream mistaking
the sound as buckshot. I was haunted
by the Gunsmoke episodes my father favored.
My breath steam against the glass. I waited
for the split and hint of silk to blossom. The halo
of pollen to burst and glow in morning light. To watch
bees return in a frenzy. My own spring
not yet showing any signs.