GUNDRY

There are little blood flecks on the snow.

There is blood in the heart of the white hyacinth.

I saw her pale body harsh as a flash of lightning

Between the gray torsos of the trees.

She had a little child.

She held a little child in her breast.

She went quickly through the dim forest.

I have seen her feet.

They are as white as ivory.

Where she ran there are little red tracks.

And it is not yet springtime!