Coy

One Spring sing-song day
I took a risk
I lit a match
I set them words on fire, yeah!
Crazy wasn’t my friend then
But I’m swimmin’ in it now, boy!
It was absolutely Spring
I’d remembered what she said

Need

How would the rodents speak

What words would they say

“Yes, you, bring berries to your back yard

And all manner of citrus and apples alike

Fresh, full with fructose, on these barren of days

We planned well for the season

The Winter in May of the Spring

Evidence our good-faith actions

Our holes in diligence dug

Where we find once again, our daily bread

While our feathered Southern friends, oh!

How they need, need, need your hand

We’ll let them dine

We promise”

Baseball

I don’t want to live this yet, Springtime

For, every time the birds and bees and all manner of creatures and things -good sports and bad- migrate back

There’s the media storm, the tough talk, the hype, the great expectations placed in the wrongest of wrong places

So I will close my eyes and wait, Springtime

The Lengthening

What puts me on edge about Spring is it makes no promises and refuses all requests.

Without notice, it could choose the craze of a Summer heat.

The best case scenario -such bravery in risking my lust.

Or on a dime, it delivers a confused dose of wintry wrath.

Snow that won’t live to see the weekend, so why-for dear Spring?

But woe be to me should Spring choose a most deviant trickery:

And leave me longing in only the long shadows of a forever Fall.

Emerge Again

To you, girl

Sister to Sister

My sole and loving admonition

If there be trust, if there be hope

It will be found in your eyes

Your eyes

Where they gaze

How they see

And the choosings they reflect upon

I make much of words with you

Made-up words, maybe

But your eyes, I know well

I know the Who you believed in

And still believe

In Your eyes

Within Your grasp

As the narcissi beneath the freeze

There be reason for trust and hope

Spring Green

There was in that dark house
A dark corner
Barricaded by a bookcase
Shelves of borrowed, unused wisdom
Visitors might only glimpse

One trying afternoon
Two deja vu’s too many
A final conversation
A one-sided determination
A voice overdue journeyed forth

And She Said
Let there be light
For She Knew
There should be light
There can be color

There in the aftermath
A dark mess
Cobwebs and chipped paint
A different bookcase revealed
She scrubbed and painted Green

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