SPRING STRAINS

In a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds

crowded erect with desire against

the sky —

tense blue-grey twigs

slenderly anchoring them down, drawing

them in —

two blue-grey birds chasing

a third struggle in circles, angles,

swift convergings to a point that bursts

instantly!

Vibrant bowing limbs

pull downward, sucking in the sky

that bulges from behind, plastering itself

against them in packed rifts, rock blue

and dirty orange!

But —

(Hold hard, rigid jointed trees!)

the blinding and red-edged sun-blur —

creeping energy, concentrated

counterforce — welds sky, buds, trees,

rivets them in one puckering hold!

Sticks through! Pulls the whole

counter-pulling mass upward, to the right,

locks even the opaque, not yet defined

ground in a terrific drag that is

loosening the very tap-roots!

On a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds

two blue-grey birds, chasing a third,

at full cry! Now they are

flung outward and up — disappearing suddenly!