Monday, April 30, 2007

Onward to May.


Overgrown haiku for the last night in April

Tonight the tree shapes green at last.
A plane spikes through a pinkening cloud.
Stone walls cast back the day’s late heat.
A bird swifts over the glowing blue,
and I cannot rest for looking.

Were I to shake this blossomed branch,
petals could fall over my arms and catch
in my hair, and I could be beloved of a poet,
could be one of those whorled women upswept
and unaware of how her strayness wounds,
how these bits of spring snow burn before
they fall to ground, all but the piece that stays.

I keep myself by knowing exactly what I know:
April’s last sunset shadows the fat leaves.
The grass sends up a scent of new mowing.
Were I to reach under this cloudied moon
to touch the dusking tree, I alone would be there.

3 Comments:

Blogger lilyriver said...

This is Jenny (in NJ).
I just wanted to say that I really loved reading this. It reminds me of this particular internal itch that I've come to think of as my "spring feeling" and that is at once pleasant and a little unsettling...

10:32 PM, April 30, 2007  
Blogger Dr. S said...

Hello hello!!! I hope that all is well in New Jersey, and I'm glad you liked this. Village-walking, you know...

1:12 AM, May 01, 2007  
Blogger Boricua en la Luna said...

Lovely. Brava!

9:18 AM, May 02, 2007  

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