Wednesday, March 2, 2011

food of spring

Harvey S. Mozolak
early from the smallest dark dots
that end the winter’s sentence
dropped from cold hands
that attempt to separate them
into paragraphs of green
they vanish
tumbling into black and brown blending soil
seed of tenderness
gathering the moisture
of teared flakes and sun
awaiting oil and soured wine
and tongues that taste
of growth again

No comments:

Post a Comment