and bulbs now emerging
as aconite,
snow drop,
crocus,
or primrose—
as if it profited us
to designate discretely
the preludes
to this end of repose
as these blind and half-starved
harbingers of spring.
But how much more
would be gained, I wonder,
if we just let that hunger rage
in our wonder
and called these new feelings
by their actual names?
