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Poetry

The Write of Spring

The write of spring is strung in alphabets
Not cuneiform: some non or Roman script!
Yet phrasings fond to raise the derelict
That creep to cheer the mortars’ ancient crypt;

Her dallying diction dances in her lights
In vernal cloudless breezes coloured blue
Whence filament gossamers trail their micro-flights
As golden finch in red are passing through!

I’ve seen her dipping plumes and feathers sprout
In genial wings that sport upon a breeze,
Sometimes her gabbles dapple on the trout
Gleaning in his silvery gravelled stream;

Her meadow spells in celland’ stem, and slender
Their infants rise in succulence so clean:
Translucence born untouched in perfect number,
Every head in pettled butter-sheens;

One stanza writes in blood its verbal stem
And sprouts its foils through mounds of basket-twigs,
‘tis Robert’s Herb within a woodland glen:
Faithful Roberta’s blushing purple pink!

I saw her bar-code wedded to a wing;
Her signature for Jays’ ‘lazuli blue!
For all his plumes he has no song I’d sing
But treasure here his preening where he flew;

Where grey forebodes, sweet April casts her shades
In piquant lines and peeping infant saps,
Her dewy meads the golden pheasant graze
Her rimes in orange glow upon their backs;

Sometimes her open book stretches a field
Where early springtide crops are camber-line,
Where zephyr breathes bare-breasted swallows weald
And chatter on the streams of summer time!

See April shine now she has come to rain
Upon some clouds of woodland ‘nemanae;
Should winter’s hand cast forth his cash again
Of crystal bead so all would prostrate be?
I this have watched, from ‘neath his pavett-sets
Sweet April sunshine’s blooms all resurrect!

Now written Spring gives in to larger throngs
Her vernal signs were merely Summer’s token!
A groundswell rises on the Skylark’s song
His volumes swell: all bindings, all, be broken!

Smell, all of Summer’s bud has burst its bloom
In cummerbunds of blossoming-burgeoned boughs
New zeals displace solicitings in tune
For tos and fros: the pace of Summer now
As purrrrrs of purpose in a dash are winged;
Through beams of light twee gossamer do pass
Seen, then unseen dissolved then brightly gleamed
Danicha dancing on her sheets of glass;

Now unseen currents cool our pulsing heads
And barely breezed a fractal pattern stirs
Where nuthatch hatch a hammered hazel wedged
While courier bees are passing in the air;

What glorious motion in this dappled shade
Of undulating chiff and tittering throng
On anchored stem, below this floating glade,
Every face turns to the siren sun;

His lingering light in bridal shadows lasts
In deckled greens or reddest slender stems,
Then density and shape go mono-cast:
To silhouette the brightest diadem!

I love that Sonnet that is writ
In the letter-pettled casting of a bloom:
Confetti-falling pretty alphabets
In orchard glades or cherried avenues!

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