A serpent’s tail spring poem.
Grey and full of rain,
pain fills the eyes of the sky,
flying with ragged clouds.
Shrouds of mist,
kissed by damp earth,
worth more than gold,
cold but full of life.
Knife-edge to the wind that stings,
rings the bare-budded trees with rime—
time for spring to show, we say,
grey and full of rain.
