In Spring

They have no idea what’s waiting for them,

Woolly, wally, wily;

Kicking up their heels in innocence;

Puffy like clouds,

Soft-seeming like cotton candy.

Horizons all unknown to them.

Truths they don’t know.

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Over-hanging branches,

Growing heavy with blossoms.

What’s pink and white and bridal

Will green beneath the sun;

Will brown and burn beneath time’s hand,

Will wither and feather-fall into the wet, turning earth.

This we know.

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You: babe in arms.

Your horizon might be further than the lamb’s;

It might be cluttered and bright;

Meaningful, painful, beautiful, absurd.

The dark lurks in your blue eyes too;

The creases of age hide beneath your suede-soft skin.

This we pretend not to know.

Picture credit/discredit: author's own work