Saturday, April 16, 2011

To Linger

Your voice, a hymn
sprinkling yellow daffodils
on a brown, ugly world.
Your tone is hushed
like soft winds,
brushing treetops
left scraggly 
by December's cold whip.
You try to smooth the edges
with the sound of your voice.
But recalcitrant winds persist
snapping willy-nilly
at the landscape at night.
You awaken and find
the daffodils have died.
But you are Spring
and you linger,
knowing time is on your side.

Copyright 2011 JO Janoski

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