Just a hint of sun, February,
pale disk cutting sharp round
whisper through high clouds — oh
no more than that, yet anxious
eager — encouraging, petals burst
from quickborn buds, hurried blooms
like disciples, arms spread, rush
in promises of embrace — to greet
the unexpected spring. Clouds slip
away, and unveiled, the naked
sun pours its warmth, its gold
emboldening the blooms below, buds
burst one after another, calling spring
to wake with their fierce futile blaze.
Beyond Breakers 