The remains in spring find and reveal the lacerated edges of the landscape, torn pieces of memories full of faded fragments and rough corners pushing up through ice & snow made fragile in harsh warm light of a sunny spring day –
old papers let fall
vainly trying to remain fresh
before decomposing into faint echoes,
words slip through dry fingers – some take root.
Even the clouds, remnants of winter’s last frosty breath, are brittle and fractured, unsure of their purpose – snow/rain washing away the white sheet that hides the grit and the brown green gray muck that slurps down slopes to the now shifting shoreline of a still & frozen lake. Stones and dried leaves grow out of receding heaps of snow midst ice encrusted gravel full of the moxie of the grinding turbulence that is spring’s heartbeat.
Yellowed browns tinge the white plain that is stretching toward trees, whose demanding roots even now are piercing/spreading into ground still held hard by the cold hands of an intransigent winter.
Swift-Frozen motion trickles into another hour of another day that spins faster and faster – never ending till the cool evening and shade hold a moment of winter to its breast, a desperate lover tearing the soles of its bare feet on a rough path leading to swelling green buds anxious to breathe warm breezes.
Ice blues cry out, turning green-brown sorrow, the wakening and stirring moves in turgid fits & starts. From rapid waltz to slow tango in an instant – sighs crack and splinter with tears of smooth pebbles & small sharp stones. Twigs and bark twist in crumpled pieces – growth turns to decay even as birth makes ready to be greeted. When will the shore line turn to fluid ripples , splashing a melody that wakens the sand & stirs wing and fin to joyous flight beneath sun & star ? The moan of a strong wind still blows across with a knife’s edge.
turns to turgid brown-green grief
crying smooth pebbles –
alarm and agitation
moves in fits and starts as bark twists……..
From fast to slow waltz & tango in an instant – sighs crack and splinter with tears that scratch with thorns of stone. See the faces of young spring, her graceful figure spins over thinning ice. Twigs in crumpled pieces turn – growth turns through rot to birth – only then will the shoreline turn to fluid ripples, splashing a melody that awakens the sand ……..
waves roll, brushing sand –
old paper’s dark messages,
vainly try to stay
melting ice echoes –
slips through the fingers,