as snow upon the mountaintops
dust to dust, ash to ash
death to life, spring
is lovely to the senses
pleases with its warmth
and scents, colors bright
the sunlight as it waxes, but
movement is illusory,
for it betrays the moment:
juxtaposed against the sky
the ground is pregnant, and
potent are the petals
tucked behind the bud
and pressed into darkness
words between the pages
No comments:
Post a Comment