A Study of Containment

By Julia Coast

I used to be on the prowl for it
Sniffing for small drafts in February and March
Until one day it was everywhere

On the sun-whitened concrete of the driveway
I became what could only be called
Uncontainable

Unshaven skinny legs flying
Unbridled in the middle of the garden
Intoxicated by paper whites and daffodils