Spring

Spring
Buds explode in the garden
Green shrapnel litters the ground
Ballerinas in outrageous tutus cabriole over branches and stalks.

Spring
Devil’s tree bursts thru the wood
Despite (in spite of) all expectations
Jacks popping out of their boxes invade the air, cackling.

Spring
Promises of cherries in gauzy white
Ballerinas and Jacks eyeing each other over
Making kinky wooden fruits in their minds. Or war.

Spring
A gusty gale drops in on the party
Complete with hail and untimely frost
Goodbye fruits, muddy wars: our heroes rot.

Spring
The time when worlds might be
Full of innuendoes and covert lies
Wooden ballets and sad jokes, forgotten in the first ray of sun.

© 2011, Nathalie Boisard-Beudin