They are messing up the horizon
The yellow ones smell like fresh laid shit
and bend on their stalks so some rhythm in the wind that no
one else can enjoy.
They stay for a while then drunkenly
Throw themselves down and ruin the smooth footpath
With their petals. Snow on the windscreen with all their
fecundity.
Some mauve up perfectly good green and
Give the breeze their too-sweet breath
All hot and sighing because it will be over far too soon.
They fuzz the trees so that those stark and artful lines
Of the branches are blurred and the eye is
No longer smoothly invited to the twiglet ends.
They nod and nod and involute
Preaching free love to the bees
And douse us all with pollen...
very pleasurable!
ReplyDeleteThanks - found myself in a mood about spring, Efi!
DeleteI really like the ladt stanza. Welcome to 366.
ReplyDeleteThanks Susan!
DeleteYes that fecundity of blossoms is really captured here. All those heady earthy fleshy smells and blurring.
ReplyDeleteFun, Sarah. So much petal fall...
Delete