April 27, 2004

• Spring Along The Charles
  

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  In New England it can happen in April,
  the cold wet rain subsides for a bit,
  and like a old familiar lover she pulls back her skirts

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  a bit

  
  

  and we,

  
  

  wishing to glimpse her seductive
  warm breezed thighs wet with the
  promise of long hot days,

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  (we are lazy in the sun,

  
  

  long canted shadows beached

  
  

  beside the ice cream

  
  

  stand,)

  
  

  we rush as to a promised hot date
  into the clear cool New England Spring Day.

  
  

  These are wanton days spun in the silk
  of promise and desire, worn with a grateful disdain
  colored both slate grey and Kelly.

  
  

   

  
  

  Spring is a bridge between,
  
  Spring is a span over,

  
  

  Spring is a stradling thing

  
  

  
  

  I stand over.

  
  

  
  

  A new warmth closes around

  
  

  my choaked senses,
  dark blue veined winter escapes

  
  

  with a coolish good-bye.

  
  

  In my eye only newness glinting like a seedling in the sunshine!

  
  

  

  • 10:10 pm
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