Let the diminished light of winter
creep through the slats of the window blind.
Let it climb rung by rung
until hunger shakes off excessive sleep.
Let early morning frosts shock
the candelabra of the blackened fig
shivering in half-light.
Let it go naked.
Let the woodpecker cling to a sham tree,
tap-tapping his message in code.
Let him take to the air, cackling
at his own folly.
Let the shadowless snake coil
in venomous dreams,
as curled roots slumber
under the rain-soaked earth.
Let winter declare its secret cargo!
Let it be spring!
when the candles of the fig burst into leaf-flame,
when the speckled woodpecker discovers a thick forest,
and the green-gold snake trails the length of her belly through long grasses.
Let our passions rise like sun on the window blinds,
when the lightness of spring is upon us.