Spring Snow*

Rather than a hum of discontent

We should have seen

Should have realized

That the spirit of the final snow

Was life

Itself.

The white velvet cannonball

of snowfall

Fairly coaxed the spring bent branch

Into releasing the earth

From bondage tantamount to terrorism.

Now the buds

Have fully explained themselves

In fragrances

And sonnets

Born of color.

Mythical in tone,

With eye reacting certainty

They proclaim

They proclaim

IT IS TIME FOR FREEDOM.

Ride with the rapid rivers.

Breathe on under the bright gift of an April Sky.

Fly into the sorcerer’s mind

Where God and man and magic

Create the fullness of the spring.