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Daisies are broken
petals are news of the day
stems lift to the grass tops
they catch on shoes
part in the middle
leave root and leaves secure.
Black branches
carry square leaves
to the wood's top.
They hold firm
break with a roar
show the white!
Your moods are slow
the shedding of leaves
and sure
the return in May!
We walked
in your father's grove
and saw the great oaks
lying with roots
ripped from the ground.
M. B.
Winter has spent this snow
out of envy, but spring is here!
He sits at the breakfast table
in his yellow hair
and disdains even the sun
walking outside
in spangled slippers:
He looks out: there is
a glare of lights
before a theater—
a sparkling lady
passes quickly to
the seclusion of
her carriage.
Presently
under the dirty, wavy heaven
of a borrowed room he will make
re-inhaled tobacco smoke
his clouds and try them
against the sky's limits!
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