Climbing Vines

The paring knife of winter undams the dense brown blood. Asps awaken and seethe—. Twining stems sweat, Irregular coralla dance around your feet, pray at your altar. Children of the soil, meek and mirthless—no currency save the smooth skin of spring. Flexous philosophies, grown splendidly in the shade do not flower well in sunlight. Black axillaries, soft feather! Cower in the green heat, pull away in kindness. The slate gray scrape of whetstone Sunlight sharpens her blade— a smile carved through the clouds.