those cotton
clouds look
published,
backlit by
attentive light
Oh sure,
that bird-
song scans
rhapsodic,
veining through
the thawed-
out woods
Oh sure,
that same
girl spells
"fantastic"
better
with her
lipstick on--
But thus I've heard:
that winter doesn't really
turn to spring
any more than empty
words on spring stand-in
for things.
