The cosmos is so vast a place
more than we can fathom
yet here in my small parcel
no bigger than an atom
a wonder big as anything
unfolds in ordained mystery
as testament to irony
in summer’s ruffed consistory.
The cosmos is so vast a place
more than we can fathom
yet here in my small parcel
no bigger than an atom
a wonder big as anything
unfolds in ordained mystery
as testament to irony
in summer’s ruffed consistory.
of thee I sing,
poor little cringing
misshapen thing!
Frost’s cruel fang
hast bit thy head
and left the blood
a darkened red.
Thy brothers and sisters
in sad disarray
look equally puny,
alack-a-day.
How now, spring?
What mischief this?
whither the photo
for our synthesis?
unknown
until
laughing
it lets us see,
just so
is February earth
in secret shiftings
the bud
of what will be.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
with little green wing
sightless
seeking light
plain deceptively
bursting imperceptibly
magenta
bunting’d tight.
Genesis green
pinked with labor
slow
ever slow
perhaps not vow
of what’s to come
but covenant with
the exuberant
Now.