Droplets
it falls from overhead
in small, oblong, misshapen spheres
of a substance lacking definite shape
and so it morphs
and jolts with seizure
and unwittingly dodges obstacles
before it hits the ground
once grounded
it conjures up life
melting the frozen dirt
turning into mud
which runs down the hills
in long rivers
over the ground that aches for spring
because it has been cold for too long
it conjures up smells
digs deep into the roots
of the few remaining blades of grass
to find the fresh scents
that have lay dormant, hidden
for much too long
it is march, after all
a time of transition
from barren iciness
to warm fertility
but this substance
that acts as a catalyst
for defrosting
drenches the earth
until it reaches its saturation point
and, at its birth
the heavens darken
and take the lively color away
until all we are left with are shades of gray
and, as death is a natural part of life
this fluid afterbirth of the coming of spring
is a natural part of this night
yet, knowing all this
i still pine for the sun's warm glow
Check out the revision I made of this poem.
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Email: fshk37@hotmail.com
