Night lingers in the heart, like it or not, and spring

now withers on the vine like a wasted year.

Don’t be shy, give seed to misinterpretations.

Hear the cry of trees rescinded within a day.

 

What pears worth the trouble? What bells?

The hard truth is falling apart. And why is that?

Because one has a point striking a blow for freedom.

The kiss of life never wears off. Just a few puffs

 

of air and a baby bull is born in the right spot

behind a peach tree. The redeeming chaos of a bull

offers a glimmer of hope to an area thirsting for it.

And now, blood boils in the shoes of children. And now, 

 

the hook over cast iron skillets turns upside down.

Listen while black starfish by the thousands

continue to appear in the holes of the sea.

The impromptu dance of all time lifts every voice.