This March madness
Plays tug of war,
A cruel month
Of icy dips
And thin, warm rises
That tease me tame
To walk abroad
Before five o’clock
Shadows fall,
And night quietly
Inks brick back ways
Curving to garden
Hideouts that spike
Green by morning;
Tight-lipped bulbs unfurl,
Ticklish to the sun,
Now purple cups
Penciled with lavender
And edged frosty white,
With saffron fringes
Center-bursting;
Fauvism splashes
Winter’s ground
Littered hoary
With fall’s brittle rot
Of charcoal grays
And veining browns—
The above-ground burial
Of common names,
Now hollow shells
And twigs snapping
Like ancient bones—
Death pleasantly
Crunches underfoot.
The season tatters
Until tucked over
Smoothly by snow,
The last weekend blur;
Once pure ice cream
Sugar-scooped
From Mom’s patio
Blankets my dreams.
But those drifts of
Crocuses will rouse
A tiny color roar,
Imperial mirth
Wildly staining
My shoe-level world.
a tiny color roar-love that line. 🙂
Yes, I had the fauvism in mind–wild beast–the association sent me somewhere….Great to hear from you!
“My shoe-level world” Great line. Purple, roar and March all seem to go together
They do–sometimes I see that after the fact! I think March coming in like a lion cliche threw me into king of beasts and then to imperial. Funny how associative thinking can take you places. Thanks for writing.
I encourage everyone to visit your fabulous blog!!!
Wow. Just wow.
Thank, M. D. I’m glad you liked it!