Real rain is falling now
The first sheer curtain
Of the season
Though greenery is vibrant
Earth is already parched
Her tongue panting for
Her due delivery
Crabapple blossoms open anyway
Paying air in advance
Trusting in their subscription
I stood outside an hour ago
And let it cascade
Over my body
Why I wore a white shirt
I’m not sure, but I’m extra
Absent-minded on Sundays
To feel the fabric
Plaster itself to my skin
Holy robe blessed
By spring’s absolution
Cleansing my twisted spirit
Let roving eyes settle on me
And wonder if I have lost
Sanity’s anchor
Suburban boxes; bureaucratic lines
Divide the land into tidy parcels
Lilac tree suckers violate
These arbitrary boundaries
To borrow moisture from
The lawn next door
Adrift in the cadence of its
Soft sonance; I sway
What I want is to lie flat
Hydrate my desiccated mortal flesh
Nourish the freshly scattered clover seeds
With my essence
Absorb me, gentle soil
Make me yours
An offering sure to please
The most finicky of gods
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.
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Comments (4)
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Interesting.
I liked this line particularly: And wonder if I have lost Sanity’s anchor
"Replenish my desiccated mortal flesh" I especially loved that line!
Excellent poetry 💖