That Winter into Spring thing

That Winter into Spring thing
is all about full light laid out
on sidewalks,no leaves to shade the sight.
Crossing lines, shadows of trees bare
and bright in the turnover of light

From bright to muted to rustling trees
the weather warms stone and flesh.
Spring is the thing we say,
watching open and honest Winter leave and
masqueraders move in, celebrating by dancing
around a pole named for a month of Spring

That Winter into Spring thing
where Winter runs to the north
leaving warmth and those so green
waves of new grass
then dandelions yellow as marketed butter
then tulips of all colors, and roses and blossoms and ......
an endless distracting of shades and windy carosels
courtesy of the chromatic scales

That Winter into Spring thing
trading old black and white photos of life
for technicolor extravaganzas
etched by sunlight, beach bodies and squints
as the sun at the center takes bows and applause.

Honest Winter light cut into geometric shapes
by the power and lines of birds in flight
My love and her face etched by November day
her thoughts clear and bright, no shade to hide.

None of Spring's make-up helping disguise
no rosy lipstick, no eye shadow
for the aching gaze to hide any lie
and to put away safely a life walked
and to leave my love's beautiful face lit up by God.

That Winter inito Spring thing.
Lost now the clean sniff of blue ice
and wind rushing its light feet over
forevers of snow, clacking and tinking of icy
branches mixed in among all the
harsh sounds of evergreens rubbing wood,
smeared with cold sap.

In the god light my love reads a book
and from the side this loving voyeur
takes stock and once again wonders,
wonders how and why he became the one
the man who gets to live with such beauty.
This Winter thing, this Winter thing.