you can count on daffodils all
the fingers of spring’s days
nodding through the passings
the illuminating of a sunbeam
by a mirage of midges
up down the counting upon
the vermillion of the hellebores under the skirts of the hedges the knowing of a real morning
on the lisp of one’s eye
Comments
the fingers of spring’s days
nodding through the passings
the illuminating of a sunbeam
by a mirage of midges
up down the counting upon
the vermillion of the hellebores under the skirts of the hedges the knowing of a real morning
on the lisp of one’s eye