You are huddled
against a flower's stamen, naked
and much too cold to smell the fragrance
soon to overtake your world. This void-black 
sky is the outstretched arms of
rose petals, enclosed over you like a domed 
cocoon, fingers meeting high overhead 
and interwoven like strands 
of a grandmother basket.

         **Gasping Amazement!  (sucking in)  ...haaaaaaa

That's the sound that you
and this entire world make
when the sky unravels, at first
almost by accident, but then...

             pollen dances
       in the soft-beamed light
                         falling like a breath

  *heart-melting sigh  (release) ahhhhhhh...

first fragrance
of spring.

About Sitaram Dass

kirtan and writings at sitaramdass.com View all posts by Sitaram Dass

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