“Spring Can’t Wait”….poem.

spring garden 4

(Tulips a few seasons ago….tulips don’t do well in the South.)

Soft late-winter night
Where the moon rides the sky
Like a beggar’s cup one-fourth filled.
The skeleton trees are silhouetted
Against the horizon
As light folds into dark velvet.

He remembers her skin,
Tender, warm,
Powdered bo silk,
Breasts full like
The cup of the moon–
The shape, not the level.

She spills over
Like melons of summer.

Warm sake in hand
He salutes the sky,
Moon and now winking stars
And sees that Spring
Has over-taken the land.
Winter’s hand still rough on the
Earth, but Spring, eternal and forever
Bids Winter move its carcass—
Give room for the birth of the earth.

Haunting notes of a Shakuhachi flute
Floats in the chilly wind….

Eternal, whirling dance
From season to season,
Never tiring in effort,
Surprises with earliest snowbells
And the first shy crocus.
The red maple is bursting
With carmine pompoms on bare branches.
Soon plum trees will prove as vital.

The earth’s gestation is in the air,
And life is seducing with promise.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2017




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