Well under
the black snow mountains
by the side of the street
covering the sidewalk
narrow nubs of green fingers are
seen along the edge of receding chaos.
We see them first the tips
then long narrow fingers
of daffodils. The sun of
early March holds
hope for growing things for
all breathing things for
all sentient beings
in this moment of
breath. Come
sunny day
we salute you
dance within you. We
greet our winterized neighbors as
doors open and
noses twitch and
lips turn up and
feet step out again
into the world as we balance
on spots of concrete
the wet of melted snow.
No comments:
Post a Comment