Malchut-Shechina sh’b Gevurah*
Small royal purple crocuses—wind-blown—
open their brave-face offerings to the sky.
Skim of dawn ice on all the car windows
yesterday—then fire sun’s bright-melt burning
and a new wind following

brought cloud-delivered rain-drop prophecies.
All winds are trade winds.  Pussy willows
in the swamp lift their fuzzed flowers, offer
message pollen to the breeze while redwings
perched on the tip-tops of last fall’s cattail stalks

trill repeated mine-yours boundary warnings.
May we carry these change-winds into our daily
doings, to stir the pot of our long-love friendships,
to make new love.  Removing last year’s leaves
I uncover more small bright crocuses—golden

glories—help them lift their brave-face offerings
to sun, to wind, to earth.
                                                               4/29/2014
           *Majestic Indwelling Presence within Boundaried Strength