We know to mulch self into undergrowth
You and I,
Foment and overwinter until rust bracken
Breaks cover, presaged by a childhood squeal;
Chuckle shouldered Snowdrop mirth.
Then we shall shake the forest floor awake
With hearty rambunctious love; kiss Spring rain
In its heave and hiss, rise again with Suns caress.
We shall barebackride on a clamour of recast Bluebell peals,
Surf waves of sound in light and cry out, Life,
To part timetangled dead branch canopy.
Our sonicboom amplified
In colour-torrents;
A thousand floral cups.
minor edit 25.7.10
For MB :-)
Comments
mykle | December 28, 2008 - 10:32
This is a very cheerful poem, lench!
I too dream of Spring when life recovers from Winter's cruel, cold spells and reaches up once more to bask in the warm, golden rays of the magical Sol.
lenchenelf | December 28, 2008 - 11:52
Thanks for stopping by Mykle :-) L
mykle | December 28, 2008 - 15:01
It is a pleasure to find something cheerful and warming in the heart of Winter, L!
"Roll on Spring" is my mantra :O)
lenchenelf | December 28, 2008 - 22:49
You are very kind, the piece could do with tidying up a bit, but when was Spring or Love orderly :-) all the very best, L.