| Pussy Willows in Spring Mother Spring slept. Sunrise distant. Twitch of Forefinger, a flutter of an eyelid, Then silence, Crisp snow on cheeks. Ice air breath February rose, fell. Cumbrous silence. Winter Rested. Spring Coiled. A little light On the ridge. Mother Spring stretched her breath long. Towards light, fingers reached. Her body lengthened, Snow fell from her shoulders and into soil. Trickling waters from dripping snow, soon flowed. Dripping sun and dripping darkness. Day was Never now night. Spring stood. She stretched her arms Wide. March dripped into buoyant, bright April. Out a kitchen window, a furry flash: Against blue sky, a pussy willow branch. | |
