this is a poem about
no thing much / a poem
about tired / & late march & how
sparkle of frost st.ill covers / coats
any thing damp can touch
this is a poem about
lost / or was it love or / was it
i can't remember now
seems to me / there's been far too much
bad poetry
so you take me / this way & that way
& i'm never quite sure / what i'm doing
no definite plan / just a long list of may bees
& the garden lays dormant / it's the slow warm ing
snow drops lift ing their heavy white heads / i'm certain
they shiver @ sun set / nite heavy with frost / st.ill so
close to /that side of the sun
& the snow / so sneaky / melts silent /
runs rivlets down the mountain / pools in the slough
in the field behind
brown lawn emerges / cautious / soft / weeds wait ing
&
i be gin
to work the gardens as they appear / bit by bit /
ground waits for me / eager for spring
/
No comments:
Post a Comment