and fan the flames of creativity
as the snow melts and the crocus stir
after long and languid sleep.
Let the buds swell
and the sap run
let the freshet flow
under an engorged sun
and give rise to may pool music.
Let me savor scents of awakened must
and feel on my face the moistened dust
as the vernal mother rolls and swells
and takes me deep inside.
the waters rise
ebbing and flowing
the drifts and bergs