We live through chill weeks
Of dreary darkness,
Alarmed a livid springtime flash
Rends open deep night,
Palpitating startled hearts—
Feet spring from bed, toes grasp:
Slippers, slippers;
Bemused eyes at last lunge,
Leap through wet glass,
Past fogged panes quaking,
Reflexive to turmoil,
A stark panorama
Of tatted rain
Hurled by vehement wind,
Lank, hunch-necked streetlamp
Quivering in its duty
To sow gold treasure
Across drenched pavement
And green-budded boughs,
Nascent foliage thrashing,
Limbs...
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