SPRING - A POEM FOR LOIS P. JONES

 

                                                                                

 

Spring

For

Lois P. Jones

 

 

I

 

The gentle discord of rainfall,

its alternating static dance are

 

Reeds of air in suspension

before the corona of sensation.

 

A droplet splashes and trickles

along your neck,

 

its joyous grief

is welcomed by you with a shudder.

 

The courage of the leaf

passes beneath the banks of cloud,

 

the burnishing lustre blossoms

upon your limbs,

 

as the flowering sounds

of the sun’s brassy trumpet

 

illuminates the oracle of hills.

 

II

 

 

The space between the words

Is akin to the space between the rain;

This is syntax –

The syntax of the rain.

 

Each word, each drop,

With its cohesion of letters

Is an alphabet written in water

Pooling now in language.

 

The liquidity of words.

 

Your waters fall like rain,

Their quiet sudden declensions thunder

With an astonishment of showers

Light and gentle as thought’s forgotten tributaries

 

Bringing  with them the relief of the tropics,

The tropics of  the spring.