Monday, March 8, 2010

On the First Green Tendril

was that the manager of the water ice
shadowed by the lattice of aluminum
sheltering the window from the impact
of an errant snowball

did i see the quickening of the vital sap
lifting up the greening tendril of ground pine moss
twisting up the muddy brick, still clad in grey brown crystals
seeping life and sun admixed

has the crumbled edifice from the snow wars
toppled in a reckless rush born of deception
ending in an eight-year-old's body slam,
grown a stubble beard of grit

as one more nor'easter threatens icy havoc
twigs waken roots, stoma open eyelids
tubers bathed in thawing runoff shiver, swelling
school's closed while my world opens

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