Springsong

 

If I could do a rite each day with leaves

Newly green!  The ones that pop from the limb!

If I could suck in the spring like a sweet milkshake

And break from the porch like a steed on wings

Each day:

swoop down the hill toward the creek

Where alabaster flowers thrust to light!

 

This must be the greatest scene—tulip and turnip

Alike resound.  Swings rush fast;  the clouds

Puff like gods.  Paths’ browns

Seem brighter, even.  Who choreographed this sun

To swing in all directions—so white,

So white?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s