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Show /I fAe.^ *S> &*.$€> ^ *<^ £&^e^ti^l r-fv-*~ Another season on beautiful fire. Another hummingbird needles the bloom- Swung branches of my plumtree, his bleeding Heart of feathers beating at such speed It seems unbeatihg, and in the sun's unclouding The tanager's intemperate plumage Flickers at the tree's equator. This spring Came on too much like dawn, all at once With too much noise and color, the sun So bright the dead are getting jumpy, Upkindling like pasqueflowers when The green current starts to tendril through The deciduous flesh of them. So fierce These early-season stirrings that I envy Them, the dead, whose ardor is dispersed And muted by the intermediary soil... My senses sway all the way down to the bone Even on dull-lighted days, but O!-spring ignites That fuse which, as it five-alarms up The middle of me, would consume those blooms, The flash-feathered tanager, the plumstained Hummingbird, his luscious and breakneck heart, The very sun. Elemental, irresistible, Spring thrusts its coal into my mouth, And if I sin to hold it there, I fear No reckoning: already, every spring I bum like judgment day. |
