Thursday, April 8, 2010

Early April

The emptiness
of the spring light
on the white wall
is the longing
for the first pale season

that gave
to all these years
its memory

the first moment
of sun and flowers
when experience
withered no green leaf
and perspective
touched no season


  1. you're killing me with butterfly lambs and spring poems. it's lovely. did you write it?

  2. 'fraid so.

    Think I need some pink prosecco...


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