New Show

by

Michael Blake 

Tossing poems like grass seed to the new season

Like the pink magnolia profusion

Heralding the new budding warmth

Here for the moment and then scattered,

Shouting color and life to the slow thawing,

The all too brief celebration

(But there’s the power, too, the flare)

Of the flowing juices, the sudden desires,

The call to share, to let loose.

 

Flooded that dry and cracked terrain

That winter weary mental landscape

In need of this injection

The old skin shed,

The metamorphosis,

The poet letting his butterflies go