what's going on here?
grass is green, bushes in bloom
as if life matters
ocean of blossoms
billows a high cherry tide
barest feet wade in
beautiful eclipse--
tulips still striving, like kids
as caught in the gray
doors and flowers, quite
hard, their sketching. openings,
roots. in own season
cat blocks me on stairs
wanting, i guess, attention
not my karmic fate
see the drying out
gray goes to green again; not
just beholder's eye
so seasons repeat
themselves regardless our tight
schedules, commands
we're not what we were
but, really: were we ever?
cats scratch, thin trees moan
i want daffodils
planted in corners, fence-side
to ease next year's spring
incandescently
you draw, fly me further on,
in. pause to dry wings
About the Creator
Mark Francis
Published translator of verse and original writer of haiku, senryu, lyric, occasional and genre poetry and speculative fiction.
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