a walk with two jumpers on


golden gilt promised me

they’d been sent by spring

whose blossom army swept from

the eastern face of the hill


i heard a blackbird’s bugle call and saw

the sun leading a charge

surging like mercury

and the sky heaving the last light

from it letting it slip all silver

into six o’clock’s cold arms


the wood quickly buried what the sky gave it

and the light returned to the earth

waiting in the sleeping snow drops

brave in dreams of summer’s might


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