How dare the flowers disguise themselves first
As gnomes of ice, guarding the path’s either flank,
Ankle-tall towers feeding the land’s thirst
With its warming, puddling, then melted blank.
How dare the carved out path be pebbled by
Careless altars deceptively snowlike,
Asking for offerings to make winter die
To seed the frozen ground with a fatal strike.
The bloody struggle for life against cold
Stains the pavement and soaks the earth to its roots
It warms earth’s marble cheeks with a gentle hold.
All ruddy and blushing, Spring substitutes
Its white coat with blooms of premature green
So tender that it colours like filtered sun,
Paints with a backhand swipe off sweaty sheen
To restore the world to softness and fun.
How dare everything melt except my scarred heart,
Why skip me, in limbo, awaiting restart?
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