March 1

Cragged,

Brittle,

The old plum

Bends down

In arcs—-

 

Upward spring

Spars of Pearl buds

With early

Translucent green. 

 

Here,

Winter ends.

Everywhere

Papery blossoms,

Line the bent

With musky,

Intoxicating

Scent.

 

March

Brings

 warm rain.

Wind

Carries

Petals

Through the air,

Which fall

Down

Around.

 

Everywhere,

White

Alights

On wild mustard

On green moss

On vineyard rows

On farmyard sows

Of daffodils

And vinca blue.

 

The old plum

And fallen log

Bloom.

 In the scattered toss

 I stand dumb

In wonderment.

 

 

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