Fierce Is The Coming Of Spring, Part II

I won’t be alone, because you tell me I am doing well and make pasta

I watch strangers running in the sun, their hands catching mid leap

They land together, a wordless harmony of movement and care

Fierce is the coming of spring, for it to force my fears, my dying gods to kneel

To make ferns and flowers and moss of their still bodies

Leaves and petals turning ever upwards, swaying towards the cloudless sky, like the dandelions in my yard

Content to live and to die and be reborn come first light