I Once Dreamed of Spring


The earth moves oblivious to shade and sun

while years turn winter into slush and gray.

Asleep as if ice closed eyes and a distance

of stars watch with obsessive rays that reach

us in the time of opened earth, content

with the return of green. The frozen ground

succumbs to heat as time and water come

as rain to wake me from my dream of Spring.
Crust covered eyes, white with winter, crumble

as nature blows the elements of chance

and change from crested cliffs cut like granite

jewels into a coat of painted dew. The sun’s

arrival blew askew crystalline past to birth

remembrance that it was I who dreamed of Spring.

Spear tipped arrowheads of white piercing brown

loam, awaken from a dormancy of roots and bulbs

and yawning seeds. Star shadows grace fields

and beds and too long silent soil; the decision made

to let Winter depart beneath sun, crack loud

enough to rouse the moon, extol what merit was last

found in cold flaked windowed skies. I arise

like sol to wash out Winter’s well worn atmosphere

with warmth and a clear recollection of Spring dreamed.
The ground spits the season from its teeth as if too much

pith and grit of Winter wants to be forever felt. I slip

from beneath the fall of hail and night and rise from a pillow

of late restored longing. Here, thawing icicles drip and glisten

with the sun’s solidities of heat and dawn to toss off

he quilt of patched cold and frosted blue-black slumber.

I went to sleep in panes of snow that squalled

and were forgotten. The world warms to the call

of harbingers numerous as the dreams I once had of Spring.
The shivering moon sighs crescent indifference, small

consideration for dust blown footsteps purchased from cold

space. Thin sinews and threads spin tale of tides and seasonal

shifts where I was filled with dreaming. Mists descends as wet

winds rip through moisture trapped in winter’s claws. White

ledged blue mountains, obscured by silk screened distance, awaken

the rocky cliff to erase the sleep called hidden snow to stretch

upon a crag from which once I dreamed of Spring.




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bishu's picture

seasonal shifts ....

... very true........ Nice read with a fine texture weave ~Wellwisher B~



allets's picture

Spring Soon

Thank you, wellwisher. May the world be kind and your days be filled with peace. From the shores of Gitchigume ~A~