Spring is caught—frost cloaks baby crocuses.
The junk of winter’s needle slows the flow.
The poem does not come. We call the laughing God.
The divine hunter whose reckless arrows wound
the thunderclouds. You, the guzzler of ambrosia,
The blood-letter of buds, announces spring!
All the walled-up of winter melts down with you
and the heavy rains. The Goddess maiden
is on your heels. All flowering, the Earthen Goddess reigns. You plant yourself in spring, under the gray roots
of a lightning sky; you make love to her.
Hidden only by blankets of air and sunlight,
the grace of your desire spills from the edge
of your whirling bed. Every living thing,
her stone, her leaf, knows—spring!
Incantation for Vernal Equinox
Spring is caught—frost cloaks baby crocuses.
The junk of winter’s needle slows the flow.
The poem does not come. We call the laughing God.
The divine hunter whose reckless arrows wound
the thunderclouds. You, the guzzler of ambrosia,
The blood-letter of buds, announces spring!
All the walled-up of winter melts down with you
and the heavy rains. The Goddess maiden
is on your heels. All flowering, the Earthen Goddess reigns. You plant yourself in spring, under the gray roots
of a lightning sky; you make love to her.
Hidden only by blankets of air and sunlight,
the grace of your desire spills from the edge
of your whirling bed. Every living thing,
her stone, her leaf, knows—spring!
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