On the Yahara

"Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass – innocent, golden, calm as the dawn, The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face." – Whitman, "The First Dandelion"






Yahara Spring IX


Nestled in among the cold piles of leaves rises up
     the thin green stems of tulip buds,
climb slowly upwards in thin new kingdoms,
hidden, hollow – innocence, which knows
by new eyes that the sun crosses the garden
between clouds in streaks for their sake.