Saturday, April 9, 2016

Haiku fail (March - April)

Even the birds are
lazy. Slow whistlers. The sun
creeps up, yawns pale red yawns
Half dreaming still her cool
blue dreams.
Dawn light: dust films patched
screens, cakes in window creases.
Birdsong pours in like water.
Scent of hills waking
under blue and lavender.
Down below the cliffs
urgent river gathers up
the slow hooting of a faroff train.
Delivers it, sound only
now, and lonely,
to the slow rolling to
morning shift:
stirs and twitters
rustles, shivers, new
Mars red, the ant heaps
wait like bombs. Invisibly
their millions, seething.
Joy waddles on fat unsteady
Fearless legs. Lurches into
Each dandelion
Each tree echoes with
Argument. Birdchat, windchat
April is crammed with
Secrets--a constant spilling
Of thrilling beans--even
The lawnmowers are turning it over
In their low drones:
I've heard (listen!) -- Believe it!
Incorrigible Spring!
Frivolous azalea
shakes out her skirts in lovestruck
thumbthick bees. Such ruffles!
Ridiculous pink!

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