Thursday, April 8, 2010

French Marigold

While the earth remains,
seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter,
day and night, shall not cease

French marigold, corona of the day,
Recall how spring’s word went long unwritten,
Emerged as scribbling winter cribbed away
Notes on ice. Your precious punctuation
Corrects and checks the season's paragraph.
How then do you mark the transitory phrase
Making March idle in its Ides and laugh
Aloud before your maternal sunrise?
Recall how Noah’s spring -the primal one
Insured that God with every season would
Get a fair hearing, numbering spring in turn.
Obliged to time, His count of suns to burn,
Leaves to turn, turning seeds and burning wood,
Dismantled endless night with aural crown.

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