BY DIRK JAMES
Copyright is held by the author.
Spring lifts the hems of her calyx gown.
In her powdered face and slippered feet, she comes prancing
around her flowing fountains of flowers.
Still cought in the fingernails of her white gloved hands is some
of winter’s chill. Flocks of birds nest in the shadows of her sheltering arms.
With a curing rain bundled in her immaculate hair, she speaks words
warm and green; a healing elixir for the hurt season.