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Dave Bonta
night like a bruise
goes away again
now the change from frost
to a great rain
Early Winter thaw,
tends to reveal barbed wire.
The gravity of snow.
Criticisms
my mother brings up,
February thaw.
Blow through me wind
As you blow through apple blossoms....
Scatter me in shining petals over the passers-by....
Joyously I reunite... sway and gather to myself....
Sedately I walk by the dancing feet of children--
Not knowing I too dance over the cobbled spring.
O, but they laugh back at me,
(Eyes like daisies smiling wide open),
And we both look askance at the snowed-in people
Thinking me one of them.