Spring's Promise

I am tired of words of pain,
a sorrow-drenched prose that
litters my path with storm clouds.
I want to catch exultation and
sunlight, chase it recklessly
down the street like a greedy child after
Christmas sweets. The world soaks in
beauty, radiant-effuse, a tumble of
wild irises, purple orchids,
tiger lilies that dare you to love me and
sunsets that streak my heart orange;
the way music shakes and stuns
me, when feeling and power
entwine to tingle my heart,
the way I am pressed upon by
love and it catches in my throat
unaware (delighted by
joy, surprised by grace).
I am tired of sadness, and even
as I weep, I am matched in glory,
the defiance of spring’s
response to winter,
the blaze of summer sun,
the riotous proclamation of
my life.


5 November 2006