FEBRUARY SPRINGTIME

The trees hold out pale gilded branches

Stiff and high in the wind.

On the lawns

Patches of gray-lilac snow

Melt in the hollows of the terraces.

The park is an ocean of fawn-colored plush,

Ridged and faded.

Sharp and delicate,

My shadow moves after me on the rumpled grass —

Grass like a pillow worn by a dear head.

Joy!