This is a poem written for those who study the mechanics of poetry as an art looking for signs of rhyming, of assonance, alliteration, onomatopoeia, homophones and anaphora – this poem has all of these…and more.
Hint of flake
from high: a squadron of
Canadian angels who
in formation we hear
honk honk honk herald the
coming of the thing
and beat the flakes from the gray
and bounce on unseen drafty sky.
And through the cold coat of
Winter wear, a greener bud
begins on branch that dares
to hope for warmth and better light.
Here, here and here
there lifts a brave blade of
grass, defies threats of frost
and skies overcast by monochrome bright
Sun shaded from sight.
Then tumbles flake into warm drip
of life and wakens and washes
the dust from daffodil eyes
who poke a cautious tip through
first one there, then there, now
here and here and here and here.
And then a yellow strikes upon the
V of beating wings, and kisses
the sleeping bark awake on trees
who unwrap their groggy arms
and stretch towards the rays
with greening finger leaves
and catkins and stickybuds
and squirrels who agitate
and bees who sing a welcome again
to tulips who rush to the surface
to greet them
and rabbits and foxes who chase
and soon we two join too like lost peoples
returned from long dark adventures, emerged,
to add to the business bustlings of