Cherry blossoms like snow falling lightly,
Like your tears dampening a shaded patch
Of the green grass where we lie wondering
Why clouds cannot simply stop their going.
All of the images at once appear in symphony.
The cool wind whips at laughing daffodils,
Bending them gladly towards a small rabbit
Nibbling gently with nervous, tiny hops.
The tightness in your sleight hand clasps my own,
Not to let go for a thousand springs to come.
Yes, spring, rushing in like wild teen, ushering
Clouds that whir along the treetops in a crowded
Urgency above the bustle of birth and blooms below.
I have not slept in days. Time is measured out
By the nest of the red, red cardinal twittering
Restlessly between the crepe myrtle’s smooth limbs.
I feel those sticks he has constructed hemming me,
Perched among the limbs of your outstretched arms.
Precarious when I consider the winds of late spring,
But strong when I remember the love you wove
With careful kisses and solemn hugs in the crook
Of this swaying branch close to the cool ground
Still as the ducks bobbing quietly in stoic reeds.
Why must I fall in my breath to stop this slow death
In the spring of our lives bursting forth as
Blooms of golden narcissus and purple camilla
And shade of tulip poplar and happy dogwoods.
Living seems a fragrant, lively thing to do!
People do this and seem to smile as the dahlias have,
Lighting the day in vibrant pinks and sunny yellows.
Still you lay, as fresh breeze approaches; as the ducks
Murmur and the cattails flutter languidly in concert.
All of spring has condensed in a moment of shaded
Beauty, but no heavier can my heart feel its weight.
The mallards wander off along the shallows in search
Of minnows and hardly a ripple is made in their work.