spring

looking into a mirror inside a 

watchtower  winter
plays solitaire, outside trees
are weighed in the dark. Leaves
are like keys, clouds thieves rinsing
winter's residue. On a branch a bird
raises a single wing to make contact
-scattered applause of butterfly wings
for the first act of spring.
 
Children's eyes are like bees as they play
on a park, at night as they dream the moon
raises noises from the day out of pond waters,
honey drips from the fingers of spring into the
mouths of winter's daughters-guide the sound
to it's source children's eyes open with the 
flowers purse for the bee.
 
An owl sketches itself into springs self portrait
before it's claws rip through the canvas to catch
it's first kill-making visible briefly time's unresting
anvil. Blades of grass are anchored delicately, 
as the soil labors imperceptibly, waters weave
as co-authors, newly born frogs breathe, as
waters exhale.