Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Not Quite

Not yet Spring,
Timid, anxious I wait
My white lace cape
Melding, melting, mellowed
Into gracious red clay

On the eve of Spring,
In profound anticipation
Green, silent buds,
Yearning for music of succulent pink

Soon, it will be Spring,
When buzzing bees linger-
Distant, hazy ‘til then,
The lull of the blossoms

For now, dining with Tantalus