let's say begin me the you way
does
open
more slightly
the closed fist of my petals,
than opens me the light fingers
of in may Spring. than
the rain does,
in autumn when
dies the trees to neatly wonderful,
(and i come into their black bodies
the sliver of my mute flesh;
stopping on brief immutable desolation
my awe to wander enormously)
the dew is fast and quietly begins me
when: like that you
are like you are
like my to unfist (and with bright colours
)pollen
gold, suddenly,
forever
