Spring’s Shadow

On the other side of this hoarfrost eye,
dutifully shielding me from freezing elements,
wires are glazed over with
the last remnants of a stubborn winter.
A steady drip, drip,
dripping heralds the death
of a season, but no one
stops to mourn the death of death. In fact
a rousing dance ensues over the grave
of this once anticipated term.
Natural magic sports itself
ostentatiously in the doctoring sunlight,
and even by night the moon is not content
with casting one shadow, but two are thrown
on the pavement as a sole dancer
takes an unshod step in organic, uncovered earth
and welcomes spring.


3 thoughts on “Spring’s Shadow

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