Spring
after the grey and the brown
the bud of green and white appear
we’ve lived long enough to know
that yellow and pink have a fragrance
of laughter, shouts, whispers
and since we’re assigning colors
memory paints the past in purple
some like scars that mock their origin by fading to white
others glowing like the hint of orange-purple dawn
that rises behind the bones of the tree line
day after day, slowly brightening
to the palest of blue framed in white
yes, spring is when true light changes its stance
serves up mornings illuminated in egg wash
spider webs and new grass alike glisten in cold air
the cat wants out early but brings back only wet paws
the body won’t let us roll over and miss a morning like this
funny how the body knows what to remember and what to forget
— April 1, 2013