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
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