Spring

is the thorn burning

in the dark wood, the sky's chasm

slashing green across the hills


   spring

the fresh green gleaming

   speck

of each unfolding leaf, each blade of corn

incised upon its own shadow


   spring

is the crow suspended gold above the cold

   field

furrows trunks aglow beneath the hedge


dogwood, willow

bending booming writhing

in the east wind


the sky soaring


driving sleet