They float down,
Those Individual wisps.
Periods which end
No sentence.
Quotations,
Bereft of content.
I press my ear
Do the dormant grass
To hear the sound
Of their touchdown.
“Shhhh,” they said.
Huddled, they hold spring in
the bending.
A strength they give without giving way.
Lake effects of layered white
perch over and again.
The weight of the world, speechless,
rests on winter green.
The equinox of forgiving
will send its mercy and grace
and warm the bitter branches.
Snow will cry again
into the soiled.
Blanket emotion
Buried deep down in the sky
Sheds its weight on us
Lace draped like a cloth
cut from the clouds
on upturned roots
which lined the roads.
Crystals of symmetry,
like linen sleeves
slip down the arms
of sleeping trees.
A canopy formed,
a wedding veil
suspended on the wind.
I heard Pachelbel’s canon
as I stood in the aisle.
