Fire in the Wind

Flowers burst their gentle bulbs
to search for light and moister air;
a rush of purpose I, too, share
On days when careful thunder rolls,
Nature, with grass between her toes,
pats my head with condescending breezes;
she is unaware of my past treasons.
When winter thaws and melts to shame,
reminders of the spring time beat the same
as a nervousness for ticking watches
and now a figure who forever matches
the ideal season of a man.

circa 2001