The rite of spring
riot of blooms
rout of cold winds winters bane
shivering bones
clattering in dismal dungeons dark
Violets are gone now
and iris and lily
bluebonnets take the stage
peerless blue to shame a cloudless sky
Pretty pink primrose too
takes the eye and
pink petal’s secret promise folds
virgin thighs’ blissful path
See me touch me
feel me smell me-
please don’t pick me
let me cast seed and wither and die
I’ll be here every spring
past winter’s baleful fling
and if you fail to come again
my bloom our last visit will still contain
Of all I am the flowering sum
Pinnacle of the past
nadir of the future
purpose centered everywhere bounded nowhere.