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She slips in
A Shiver through
time’s curious wrinkle
Arrives on the doorstep
like a long-lost relative
returned early late
for a holiday
On her wrist
she wears a crocus
At her ankle primroses
yellow white light dance
Anxious willows pop
their furry buttons
at her glance
In the hills
pine boughs begin
to drip on hard needles
under which the uneaten
nuts hibernate against
cold winter never
quiet come
May I stay
a little while?
she whispers soft
Her breath perfumed
of sunshine & sage
I bring a gift
of grace!
Poet's Corner 