Spring

Spring

            after Merwin

Soon my open window will be morning birds will be wet

green grass will be lemon light earlier and earlier soon

the lilacs will be bursting purple their trapped

bouquet surging from somewhere deep

beneath the crop of rock and measuring it will be

impossible and we won’t want to anyway

Soon a spring swept and clean of debris only snow

allows: rusty mud frozen still on some

mornings then warm sloppy sponges deep

into the day and if it rains yes deeper still  but

yesterday I saw the scatter of daffodils on the side

of a mountain hill I saw them beneath the slope

of a rock wall a soft blond in mist coming up from

the mountain road their little hoods bobbed in

and out of the wisps of mist and driving by

wasn't what I wanted to do it was slowing down it was

stopping I needed it was making myself small

enough to make them tall I wanted to be a shy

folded umbrella I wanted to curtsy I wanted to duck under

one if I were that small and lean on her I wanted her leaf

a seat to swing me if I were weightless and somewhere

an open window somewhere a woman leaning out

closes her eyes as she breathes in the all of spring

and purse her lips mimicking the arriving and letting go

of the tongues of daffodils the talk of tree swallows

alone but never ever alone on the side of a mountain