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Spring

Chilly wings of white linger and light and bite

the frost found wound around her fingers

as she unfurls her curls her leaves

in heaves and throws

to show she

knows to go

soul to sun.

 

Bound to ground but found

crowned,  emboldened with  golden

dust to ****** -

unjust to those

who nose too close

and impose shadows

from which she sends shoots green

to stream streaks straight away

soul to sun.

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Written by
alex-k-jenkins
Published
Mar 25, 2013
Lines·Words
16·73
Notes

As we waken and stretch from our dormant winter stage, we bare our chests and souls to the skies to reenergize.

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