Spring perhaps








Spring perhaps
will wipe sweetly any tears from my world
from my rainy black trees, off the branches
blackish fingers cold, nude
without breath
Spring perhaps

March: its wind
maybe will clear the fog from my heart
I’ll see eyes of my love without pain
grey and green, nice and pure
be my breath
March, perhaps

Now I’m cold.
As an heron I lock head and wings
to the body to wait passing chill
my legs are in the hard, frozen mud:
dirty ice
snow, perhaps

Courses time
Night and darkness become short and light
leaves will be the wings of this my mind
Nature will resurrect with you, Christ
Spring appears
and I too
I, perhaps

11st March 2013


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