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.