Spring (continued)
III
Rain, grey and cutting, slashes my cheeks, leaving my jacket tear streaked
as I hurry to my bus,
An expected monotony that grinds the spirit small,
Until, without warning, a patch of blue streaming light erupts
through the canopy, leaving me dazed and hopeful.
VI
The lion of March thumps and bumps, shaking windows
and whistling around the house corner.
Trees, ever submissive, bend, kowtowing
only to spring upright, their strength hidden but alive.
Small gray birds shelter in the thickets behind my house.
They wait, bursting into song, calling the sun forth.
Clouds race like charioteers around the velodrome sky,
the sweat from their straining steeds, and tears of the losers
splatter the empty sidewalk.
I too shelter in my chair, burrowing deep,
my little dog dreaming on my lap
until I venture out at the smell of damp earth warming and smile.
Spring!
