In blackbird mornings, with a sweetness
greets us in the slant of rays; in licks of sun.
When spun at dawn, the bike-path seems
as streamed on gold, a necklace lighter
than the bite of frost warmed by our muscles
tussling, wheeled away on the way to work.
When irk of dark is gone a mile seems shorter,
when sport is sung from wheels on gravel roads.
when loads on shoulders leaves for days of spring.
We drink the smells of soil, anticipate the flowers
growing underneath, as soon the crocus sends
its scent in days this close to equinox.
Today Grace hosts dVerse Open Link, as we are having our first day of something that really feels like spring. The bike-ride to work today was pure joy. I played a little with internal rhymes, but it’s still pretty much work in progress… I might work a little bit more on the poem before the pub opens at 3PM EST.
March 17, 2016