Spring

And then–

it approaches

like a child at ten,

his years ahead

like unspooled thread,

unfolding flowers

rising from the socket

of wise ground, patted down.

White melts,

green blades peak,

and faces press their noses

to cold windows

for their last winter breath,

circles forming on the glass

with no fog left to gain,

only eyes to the trees above,

approaching the season

they like most,

in rebirth.

April 22, 2014

Advertisements

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s