First Rite
Reluctantly
compliant twigs
permit
the murmuring wind
to
pluck arpeggios -
they
glisten as they dance,
throw
off the recent rain,
as
if to solemnize the ground
in
Holy baptism.
Shoots
drill
through
the cold
sodden
ground,
shrilling
defiance.
Snow’s
residue,
a
blanket stitch,
hems
in the pale green spears.
A
sunbeam breaks
the
day’s grey wash -
as
if to bless
this
new emergence.
24 January 2007
