Good Weather

From winter to spring.

Healing the wounds from winter,
repetitive forearms of clouds
that mean warmth from the west
are like curves of young virgins
unlike the animalistic cumulus,
cirrus are like wraps of soft linen.

Sunlight injects life
as a syringe of photosynthesis
to burst collage-fired terrain
(or the meat of new leaves)
for silhouette-like branches
with fresh buds
and hidden blooms
tucked quietly into
the soon surrendering nightfall.

I am moved by a promise
making for warm delights,
streams of sleep-by-these memories;
chirping crickets,
bullfrogs croaking,
(colorful earthquakes for my dreams)
the light is so intense it permeates everything,
even the solid ground.

Screeching red tail hawks
catch my awareness
and feelings try catching up
to overtake sleepy eyes
fixed on a faded daytime moon
complementing
brook-side reflections
and my fishing gear
beside the door
screaming
- Let’s Go!