Purple crocuses with yellow saffron center by chamrick randomstoryteller

Crocus Drift

-Crocus Drift- poem by ChamrickWriter randomstoryteller

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.

6 Comments

    1. Catherine Hamrick

      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!!!

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