come spring
things will be different
I hope
bare toes and
green growing things
growing greenly
swoops of hyacinth
peeking crocus punctuation
lily bells ringing
these snow-covered aches
leftover pains from the frozen season
ease and melt
rush through newly porous earth
back to the dark molten source
beating in the center
a mantle of bursting buds
stretches over heavy grief-laden soil
dark roots hidden again
hungry depths go silent
fuel heaving striving upward grasps
chasing shadows with sun
a winter's rest
dreams of bright lights and warmth
traded for soggy truth
but still come spring
things will be different
I hope
Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.
3.20.2009
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1 comment:
This is lovely my dear...thank you.
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