Spring Tumbles Anew from Slush – Keith Moul

Spring Tumbles Anew from Slush – Keith Moul

Spring has officially sprung (as of the 19th, really) and this poem of Keith’s is the perfect piece to conjure the spirit of the season. Enjoy.

Spring Tumbles Anew from Slush

Each flake busted in like a little mountain,

encasing in cold, longing vegetable corpses

all ready to join the living in spring warmth

per custom cited in every local garden book.

So hurriedly seized, as hurriedly deliquesced

on orthodox cue as air bubbles up from below.

We feel tingles, but hear both pops and smacks

of joy, the smell of mud striving with the melt:

tendrils uncurl, sliding up to slippery twirl

rose hips aged orange 

red and yellow dogwoods bud

purple blackberry vines

clamp bronzed cedars 

opalescent horseflies neigh

Ever-curious, hatched right to hungry, eager

for buoyancy permitting them radical choices,

astute robins enter as if by stage direction

cunningly unwritten, breathtakingly in tune

with planetary law, with music of the spheres.

Cabin fever primes my detonator,

floods the vacuum universe with word bursts,

splotched, fused and spattered with galaxy light,

hoops shade as if of crinoline

tufts gurgle with new aromas

caterpillars undulate

deer pad ancient paths

saplings rise into forest space

every root electric in reverence,

passion holds trembling beneath every leaf.

Keith Moul has written poems and taken photos for more than 50 years, his work appearing in magazines widely.  His chapbook, The Journal, and a full-length volume, New and Selected Poems: Bones Molder, Words Hold were recently accepted by Duck Lake Books. These are his ninth and tenth chap or book published.

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