0 you divine gift!
You invader of a dark day
with your silent infusion of Eden!
You treasure-chest of joy —
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hearty harbinger of God's bounty!
This morn you have emerged
from your green cocoon —
pristine petals, a sextant sweet,
an emulation of Orion.
Naked you stand before my world
baring your secret scent.
atop a staunch pillar —
perfuming your proximity
with a profusion of pungency
just for me
it was such a tiny squeak
it would be lost in a timeless void
but for the kindergarten ears
that were learning the world
that squeak is embedded
deep in the maws of memory
Mother pressing the wooden
forking it over the corners of the cold wet snow-white bedsheets
clasping them tightly to the clothesline so they would fly like flags
whipping in the wanton wind
I never hear that sound anymore
and the breezes carry pollution
there are no wooden clothespins
or sagging clotheslines
with their ghostly garments
and Mother died.