Blooming, a Poem by Woody D.

01-7

one of the virgin
afternoons of spring
today
I have needed a gift
a kind word
wrapped in paper—
lavender
silver
seaglass green

a bow
(it has been a long winter)

here I am
throwing open windows
like a town crier
announcing the return of the light
to these snow-dark mountains
the wind

is eager
to finger the hair of the pines
edging the field behind my house
jostle the faces
of the flowers

all masculine
restraint excited
trembling
chivalrous
even
this waiting
does it feel
like duty
like
lure?

when a thousand
iris bulbs are glowing
purple and white
new crocus
waving wee threads
three each
the color of peach flesh?

they brighten
the husk-colored grass
like ladies in Sunday dresses

spring announces himself
in the mountains
with gusts of wind
strutting prince
his longing
a salutation
you see—you
feel
his huffs
you close your eyes

you hear the muscled
expanding
of his chest
again and again
and then a playfulness
follows his heraldry
like muted
light

toward evening
you can hear
a valediction
in the voices of the chimes
chattering like housewives
remembering
his fingers

sigh sigh sigh
they say

a final gust
sends them wildly
tinkling
giggling handful
of glass stirs

clink and release
clink and release
spring

raindrops
quivering

to fall
be absorbed by
the fallow
field

rejoice
in the teasing
jingle

of his fingers
in the eager
muscle

of his thrust
in the yellow
wanton

tangle of his
blooming

(c) 2016 by Sanguine Woods

(Photo: Vern Klevenger Photography)

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2 responses to “Blooming, a Poem by Woody D.

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