The fevers of winter have flown away
and we rest in the empty palm of the house
like the shadows of animals
that lived here, chameleons
with starry fingers invisible on white walls,
deer breathing in the shadows.
We were almost
clenched in winter’s fist
but the green leaves
are exploding from the trees.
Across the way, a woman’s voice singing,
the song arriving like silk and spice
from Asia. Throw open the windows,
it’s spring! All I held in
my winter breast turns back
into the world, an inverse body,
the universe turned inside out
singing and breaking through
the four red chambers of earth’s heart.
Everything is alive.
The deer hooves clatter out of the shadows,
chameleons turn deep green.
I remember spring loves
and drunk kisses in the hills.
Things bloom in a woman’s singing voice,
through open windows and longing.
Even nations are yielding
and there is the moonlight and her stars,
a flock of white cranes crossing the dark sky.