Spring's chaos's come, when thawed snakes braid And Sun's bold boots stroll dusts as cozy As the pelvic bed where our mortared bones are laid (In mortal mixing snug love mists hazy); 5 And every nosy bud shoves a shaggy muzzle Into the motley glory old God abandoned, Romping with folly's pollens and playful fuzzes Above winter's withered sticks cracked to ground. Alone where mowers have managed the meadow, 10 Tramping past tidied detritus thrifty blades array, Shamble-shanked, my aimless stride displays A mulish insistence for day-dreamy rambles, A wish that all the world's walked fallows would follow My cragged return to disordered brambles.
From the collection "Supposing Roses"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.