Thursday, May 7, 2009

Bereft of Frost

Spring marches on in usual succession
renewed budding by day, denuded natal by night
in flights of crepe and torn kite.

Tailwinds and tailspins do their part
in the cleansing soak,
bubbles in warmth hold enchantment.

Winter pales in comparison
in expectation of a new birth -
seed and toil from cold misgiving.

By a stroke of luck and equal parts
madness, a reckoning occurs,
darting through meadows
resplendent in weeds.

Wild ones lift lonely shoots
tilling the soil of another tomorrow;
dreamers still find reason to fly
from the chrysalis in the early dew.

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