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One Account of Spring
Virgil

Motes of early dark chlorophyll spot
 1
colour-dead precincts I walk through,
 2
caught in the cold-warped lense of February.
 3
 
 
Mercury sky bleeds blue,
 4
waning to yellow from brief green
 5
seamless toward empyrean's round,
 6
twilight often overlooked.
 7
 
 
The rarest tinge pink, like buds
 8
new enough to mount a bezel
 9
woven through strata of cherry branches.
 10
 
 
And then the first star, like a diamond
 11
at the bottom of a great ocean,
 12
sinks slowly west.
 13
 
 
Snowfall for not one hour
 14
and already our footprints
 15
carry us backwards
 16
through time and space unerring.
 17
 
 
Every orange street-lamp an illumination,
 18
its own day and night while starting home.
 19

More coming soon.

1 Mar 07


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(21 more poems by this author)



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