Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

UNKNOWN SPRING

Relentless days of unknown spring
Harsh and sweet
Scent of life
Scent of death

Days of cloudless clarity
Delight in the return of the birds
Twigs in their beaks

Days of gray dome
Bone shuddering cold
Hard rain and snow
Even the daffodils are ugly

Will rebirth triumph
Will death’s gray clutch
Sink into forever winter
A tulip not yet open
Hangs it’s head and sighs

Trees still empty
Today are whisper silent
Even the crow, dull under gray ceiling
Is mute

It is either resurrection
The phoenix rising
From a long winters’ ash
Giving song to feathered flight

Or is it the last spike
Driven deep
Into earth’s crusty flesh

spring as the last spike
is as gruesomely real as it gets

kurt, you're chipping away at illusion and doing it well

judih