I am mai am I not? And spring is sprung
armed with a ton of scents, I have begun
my attack on the senses of mankind,
man unkind, humankind, or am I blind,
abled and disabled alike feel such
intensity, a rush to see so much
anguish and beauty all rolled into one,
majestic landscapes overwhelm the sun.
I stare directly into the starlight,
nothing empties my mind with such a bright
omniscient spectacle from outer space,
to watch the coolfireblue, my eyes, my face...
As all thoughts melt away, I am certain
nothing can stand in my way, the curtain
drawn, the stage set, ready to play my role,
save I am old, old as the wind, a hole
plays with energy just beyond my reach,
resplendent the dark mass, what I could teach
industrious, young minds, and aged fools
nostalgic for lost nights, they know the rules,
given time dissipates over the years,
if I could hold your hand, or wipe your tears,
silly how I forget... you can't see me,
seasons change, summer approaches, I flee
possessed of time, by time, and within time,
returning each year to run and to climb,
urgent messages pass from star to star,
nothing you could ever understand, bar-
gain for love, barbecue and horse's dung.
~ ~ ~
Inspiration: Fanny Howe, "Unloved" from Eggs,
Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston 1970.
I am just seventeen
& it is spring.
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