Understory

Understory
(Inspired by Dave Smith:  “The Spring Poem”)

Beneath all sediments,
in theory,
I’m a poet.

So this piece is 
about
Spring in all
its hidden verities
coming to blossom.

I have lived through a 
lifetime of Springs
AND
not one was 
ever the same.

THIS Springtime
—before its arrival
—I was a naked branch
attached to a vine.
I suckled upon its juices
…a new born babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes.

In the long winter
months, I was fed
beyond any other season.
No-thing visible
—still I took ROOT.

The crippling cold
broke me in places.
 I’m different, reshaped, transformed
yet, still the same.

Ready to burst
—the flowers, buds, fruits of these words:

Yellow daffodils
lifting through brown
damp soil strewn in Autumn’s leaves
let-go
—remaining.

Blue skies holding the 
stars blotted out by
a fiery orange ball
—an endless flame
—an inferno.

Green grasses that look like
slender stilt walkers
sway across
the landscape as the 
soft winds ramble and weave
their delicate dance.

Springtime
—red birds sing a melody
bringing me to my knees.
A chorus of insects, microscopic bugs,
larger than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
—bellow refrain after refrain
while the Owl pulls the 
moon out into the darkness.

A black sea
—Heaven’s Dome
littered with diamonds.
The Milky Way
—her essence revealed
—she becomes Light.

Springtime
—theories
GUNSHOTS.

I’m a poet…

what do I know?