Now the sky is speedwell-blue
with tiny dragon-clouds dissolving in the upper air.
There’s snow on the north slopes
but warmth in the sunshine.
The trees are bursting out immanent life in fuzzy buds
the grass is contemplating green,
the birds are singing new songs.
In the bare earth of the Alpine Garden
the first crocus,
as bravely purple
as a new hailed Emperor.
And my rushing joy of recognition
is like… like…?
Like spring after winter?
Water in the desert?
A book in the wilderness?
Plato after Scholasticism?
A truly new thought?
Like finding somebody to talk to
who can understand what I’m saying.
17rh April 2013