Falling, striking, transforming—
Plump in early spring.
Sunlight cuts through ice,
Thaws like blood into water—
Easter morn arrives.
Pressurized clouds burst.
Rain falls, washes the gutters—
A starved earth suckles.
Jade grass, wildflowers,
Sapphire, lapis lazuli—
Iron skies subside.
Time won’t slow down,
Time is time, ever constant—
Time is all, is now.
Don’t they know to look away—
They flaunt their brightness.
Rushing pheromones prevail—
Love perfumes the air.
Daylight lingers on,
As long as a day can last—
Till turning its back.
Bared skin seeks the light.
Sun warms, burns fragile body—
The grass browns and dries
Yet carries running children—
Facing but one way.
Fill each night with grand wishes—
Money, power, food.
Scrounging through trash cans,
Bears stuff for hibernation—
Inspiring warm fashion coats—
Clothing demands cash.
Bare trees whip about,
Lashing lamely at the sky—
A bleak as hell time,
Thanksgiving serves a great feast—
Heads bow, prayers rise.
Evergreen trees trimmed,
Feasts grace fine linen tables—
Christmas closes shops.
The old year expires,
Heralding snowy Times Square—
Down to a second.
S.A. Bort / 22 April 2014
all photos by S.A. Bort
First hummingbird arrived today,
tomorrow the first of May.
Hummingbird hearts, amazingly, beat the fastest.
Forecast of snow for overnight
near nine-thousand feet of height.
Our springs seem unschooled dismissing a guest.
A quilt of snow now graces the ground,
this year’s “Aprill” gone to the devil’s hound.
Snow melts—”shoures sote” and wildflowers sure to follow,
purple-robed, yellow-stamined pasque flowers first to rise.
Easter prayers, for weeks now, empowering spirit-sewn skies.
Winter’s heart beats slow yet will find it’s sorrow.
Cerulean waters and rich earth of green
from the spheres beyond are all that’s seen—
a lonely planet without fiery flames, like the sun.
Rocky heights here and depths of marsh,
from there must seem absurdly harsh—
yet bounded our shores be, lusted over, perennially won.
by S.A. Bort
photo by S.A. Bort / 1 May 2013