The Dogs of Spring

THE DOGS OF SPRING Days get menacingly long; Pristine azure heavens feel the threat From the sky’s cloud-throng, Leaving shrunk icicles with wet regret. Exhausted, the heroic shards of crystal From blessed winter’s breath Are dashed to a dripping saliva death. In the heated onrush of times vernal. Strength ruined by April, Glistening bergs in the estuary: Relent with brutal battery To become sculptures fragile. Attrition grows stronger, beyond repair In the dark spring night. Respite white becomes rare, As unleashed dogs bark and bite.