THE CLEARING ALONG THE TRAIL TO THE RIVER
At the onslaught of spring,
when I was there for the first time --
along the trail to the river--
the clearing seemed to be under a siege of towering spears
to foil the strike of solar legions;
the ground (littered with leavings of wintry aggression)
cracked underfoot when trod upon,
while gusty talons sounded the shields,
but thwarted--withdrew,
to quicken their probing resolve.
At the first breath of another spring
I returned to the clearing--
the one along the trail to the river --
and everything is the same:
sunbeams play on crystals of pine,
(their glory only magnified by arbored absorption)
to woo a lover's boon from pliant earth;
greening probes of promise--from their carpeted cradle
emerge--
to quicken their noble resolve.