Friday, February 26, 2010


The whisk of summer on succulent skin
The taste of winter on frosty fresco breath
Until there's not a moment left
Until the look of resurrection leaves her eyes

But not the hop, leap and recoil of elastic
Rather the first swallows and lilacs,
Of our marching dandelion parade
And the tender vernal oscillations,
Of you.


Francis Scudellari said...

This builds my anticipation of spring, and those oscillations. Lovely images and sounds.

aaron steely said...

i dig

The Scrybe said...

@ Francis: Thanks again :). Imbolc has passed, Spring is on its way!

@ aaron: :)

Jenny Enochsson said...

I can see a connection between your recent writing and Lawrence, even though you have your own style.

I really like the expression "leap and recoil of elastic". Nice rythm.

The Scrybe said...

Hey there Jenny; as you know I love Lawrence, so thank you :)!
And this poem is actually a repost from May last year...

Limpidus said...

True matriarchal feel.:)
Unlikely, this topic. Just my taste.:)

The Scrybe said...

Pleased to meet you Limpidus, and thank you :)

Megan Duffy said...

"the tender vernal oscillations"


The Scrybe said...

Thank you Megan (: