Ask, as if the still water answers
with blue-blown ripples, and
a tiny thousand lights sing of spring.
What is the question dancing out and in
from shadowed wings,
on the feathered limbs of just-greening trees?
Or this? How life comes
and ends, in whispered sounds
and pastel hues—
ducks quack and geese honk,
the buds of daffodils bob swan-like on sprouting stems–
you recall all the questions never asked
she lived a long life,
her laugh mixed with bright blooms,
summer dreams in a garden
red and pink. Past and future are
heart-haunted, but sweet
like birdsong in honeyed glow.
Now, you embrace the after—
the flowering dawn and the caramel glow–and
the secret smile of the morning
calls to you, not why,
I collaborated with the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. She’s feeling philosophical on this first morning of spring, and I’m still asking questions.