Eloquence of Spring

From the crispness of morning to dusk when all boughs sashay to unfurl, deepening the fragrance of airbrushed woods… she will bask in her own pleasure on a carriage of larkspurs , jays in the shade--- while the breeze fondles her hair ripening the glow of early May, ablaze. Oh how she pulses more daring than winter , not icy-white but pink, pink like a virginal woman whose fertile seeds enter my womb: that I drink from her minty sup, luscious as Taurus’ nectar. Until spring raises her hands...fluid, raw, loving; then, to explode into blossomed flight through the language of time’s renaissance-- a charmed way, basking in her own pleasure, then to grant me the eloquence of god’s art. 4/27/2018 Spring Contest of Craig Cornish