False Spring

False Spring

Pin pricks of light enfilade
from lisping wand a warming spell
winter's long siege abates
lampshade rises over mercurial meadow,
bristling brows arch from scraggly face
at nadir, gangrenous shards molt
icy fondue that quivered cusped heels
whisked into the sun's vacant till
spindled limbs curled on gnarled frames
yawn then stretch their limp tips,
from blanched strands, twining petals
weave an embroidered quilt

In due course,
winter's scourge returns
March winds enwrap,
shaking Nature's newly woven canopy;
tender strands curdle,
the stitched tapestry unwinds
Buds, as fragile paper mache tissues,
spin on their axis's,
then, as meandering kites,
sail into the breeze, wafting,
until gravity pulls them to their beds
Dainty crowns become downy blankets
caressing the wilting fibers;
At once, memorial to the disrobed tree
and shroud to the denuded ground