what Lady Spring wears home
in a slow ride
in a sewn felt rhythm
of Her day
on display
at the kitchen counter
as She linger dances
in a thought
Her fingers are
slow tracing
a freedom
in fates
and a bloom
of too ripe
to wait
for a plate
these desires
for Her
in us
are what
burn the tinder
weight of
the long night's
sorrow of Winter
we carry
in ways
sometimes
without knowing
each moment of joy
we have with Her
is in the notes
of our songs
and are what
we sing
out loud for
and dance to
when no one
is around
as if to say
yes,these
are the ways
we taste for Love
in every crawl tide
in every womb
we have
in our souls
as every one of us
that smiles through
to Her today
sings,yes
and dances
to wear
the sweet
of every heart
she knows
inside to out
and grows home
to become
another poem
another Spring
that's here,again
EJR (c)
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