Spring

Sun. And fragments of melted snow
and water drips from all the roofs,
and a bare heel knocks,
and streets shine in wet smoothness,
and behind high fences, the grass rises
like a bewildered deer…

Sky. And a mild, warm rain falling,
a dog barks for no reason,
a coat blows open,
a thin dress hangs like a laugh,
a little bit of wet snow held in the child’s hand
whose eyes are the first clover, waiting—

Spring. Finally, the trees are completely bare
and each shrub, a soft sound—
the first message of new happiness.
And tomorrow, the swallows return.

7.3.1940