Fay Slimm.





Tomorrow\'s plants curl in frozen patches

as snow-mottled clouds

hang unsmilingly low over cold ground.


Surges of change entered air\'s passage

as Spring, winter-dazed

sluggishly pushes green things awake.


Stifled and naked ice-stiffened  vines

still as stick-statues

dream of red dresses full of grape juice.


Nothing appears to rile nature\'s mind

no uncertain moves

rule the intent that new will be rooted.


Cold it may be but Spring knows its duty.