Sun Christened Springtime Buds
…………
Camellias on Chepstow Crescent, London, March 2, 2019
Sun christened springtime buds of blooms and leaves
Come out and hum a melody. The chill
Air shouts, “Not yet,” so each new shoot aggrieves
The air with slow patience. Nothing is shrill
Yet. That comes later, after March’s blast
Attempts to tear the tender growth. Its sneers
Are silent or they can’t be heard past
The wind commotion. Why subscribe to tears
When sap is rising in the future? Death
Belongs to other faiths, not the creed of spring.
That hateful, hurling March is just the breath
Exhaled by April for the trees to sing.
..The branches’ swellings never dream at night
Of cold November’s atheistic rite.