A Cold Spring (After Elizabeth Bishop )

Alabaster bones reflect    
 warmth of an obscure orb;    
their pallid membrane dormant    
  - lacklustre of any verdure      
     
Winter pursues first green    
  as gold,  but she escapes -    
  her youthful diligence scattering    
a surplus of burgeoning buds    
in her wake;    
     
tiny nubs, hardened as pearl-    
   moist, glistening in halflight      
of compressed dew      
     
I read once about Spring in Ohio;    
the belly of a tulip engorged with snow    
  a slow death of sharp frost    
masticating her laden ovary black      
     
But still they come, bursting forth;    
  an underworld of army rising up    
- stamens puncturing air, uninhibited    
by the thick, cold skin of fog      
     
Soon, hills will be kaleidoscopic;    
  prismed in our tumbling irises      
  - dark insects buttercupped      
  white Bradfords and Cherry pinks    
     
Crusading Dogwoods bearing a Cross;      
Templars in a holy rite by birth      
   exalting the equinox;      
Knighting mangey landscapes      
  - dampened dull from wind and ice -    
with fervent love and life;    
     
Earth becomes a breeding ground      
  -species bask in cyclic light-    
mankind pauses hatred and strife    
  if just for a second in time    
     
Their song clear: "Wake up!      
Wake up and dance!";    
their message strong: "We survived!    
     
We survived again!"    
~    
     
     
#ElizabethBishop