3.5.08

xpoem#6

Some stubborn sprouts up through the stubble hay,
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.
Wheezing ravens, when
Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass,
Winds blow sharp, what then?
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
To the Pole
Life, or only joy, that stands out
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
The bees are buzzing,
snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled
My keyhole blows a gale
Covering the land?
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.
fingers.
then takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.
Cuts out of its width
Unfair