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.
Tag Archives: bud
Connections: May 12.17
Connections: April 7.17
Oh, nippéd bud,
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?
Connections: February 4.17
Secret life
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.
