The wonders of Springtime
Whisk me away.
The glisten of raindrops
So freshly they lay.
The chirping of birds,
Sweet songs do they sing.
With echoes of laughter
They joyfully ring.
A newness of life
As sprouts start to bloom.
A colorful sight!
Ridding Winter's dark gloom.
The magic of flowers
Stretching up toward the sky.
Green grass all around them,
The aromas sublime.
The buzzing of bees
Hum happy and free.
In fields of wildflowers,
What a sight to be seen!
The wonders of Springtime
Fill me with bliss!
Naught a happier sight
To be seen than this!

©KSS 4/2015

It is the winter
that makes the spring sweet.
Just like fall’s cool breeze
after summer’s heat.

The cold white expanse
and the leafless trees
wait expectantly
for the first spring tease.

The candle on the window was a-flickering,
Struggling to draw its light from the waning moon,
With the flames, the east wind was playing,
There as her proud vanguard, already waiting.

The crone herself had arrived at last,
With the clouds promising rain ******* her heels,
Those clouds were mimicking the sharp waves of her stormy hair,
And the spirits were all dancing with the thinning veil.

All raised their glasses to welcome the crone,
All revered the dark mother, whose might could never be surpassed.
They all knew that now they could reap what they had sown,
And sit by the hearth as the winds howled past.

May’s departure reminds us
That winter’s wool jacket
Has been replaced
With spring’s fabric sandals

The morning frost
That caked our windshields
Is now but a glossy dew
That lays upon the grass

The late December chill
That weathered our flesh
And consumed our warmth
No longer can feast

June’s prelude will refresh us
The endless sunshine and subtle breeze
Will nourish us in preparation
For winter’s arrival once again

Upon the deathbed of Old Man Winter
Autumn placed her golden crown,
and as his heart began to thaw
he helped Spring lace her morning gown.

feast your eyes onto this
soak it in
milk, blood, cherubim, and all
feast your eyes on this atrocity;
atrocity, tragedy, calamity
you can't help but look anyhow

tosses me into his bed
tosses me into his garden along with the tulips and chicken bones
waits for me to sprout next spring
i wonder how she'll be-
how she'll bloom
she'll spit ichor and honey through her teeth
annual or perennial
we'll never know

fret not, fret not-
breathe in the summer night
throw yourself down into the garden
bare your neck to the rose bush and forget it all
forget the cherubim
forget the milk
save the blood
save her