the desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
like the crocus it will burst into bloom...
the earth wakes up with crocuses
when the winter night loses its hold
scattered along the high ridges
among the grasses and thistles
lying low
so the wind brushes
over them in its haste to find a taller
thing to buffet
open in shades of lilac, lavender, purple
that you cannot see while scannig
the horizon
tired of winter we see only
ridges of old snow on the river banks
brown grasses
things that are not yet new
not yet awake
but if you find one
one clump of
bold
purple
springtime
crocus
you will discover
the hillside is singing
river banks echo
clouds stopping to grin
returning hawks spin as they soar
this is
the earth shouting for joy
