March 10th and the snow flees like eloping brides into rain. The imperceptible change begins out of an old rage and glistens, chaste, with its new craving, spring. May your desire always overcome your need; your story that you have to tell, enchanting, mutable, may it fill the world you believe: a sunny view, flowers lunging from the sill, the quilt, the chair, all things fill with you and empty and fill. And hurry because now as I tire of my studied abandon, counting the days, I'm sad. Yet I trust your absence, in everything wholly evident: the rain in the white basin and I vigilant. |