by David Hanlon
for Kris
inside: winter: rainy, frigid, drab
outside: a garden in springtime
sunlight drying any puddles, any
osmosis of December sorrows
crocuses, purple and white, spill
splatter generous over emerald banks
thick oak trees stand tall and resolute
branches splayed into alacritous arms
shaded ferns staying evergreen
fronds delicate as late-night touches
lake stilled by solicitous winds easing
a sustainment of mallards gliding on top
wooden park benches built and carved
to rest upon: take in the vistas
of your devotion, for this is all you
all that you give me: every day
you March my spirit, my inside
you, soul-tilting, soul-spinning
superhuman season-changer
of my once wintered heart
David Hanlon is a poet from Cardiff, Wales. You can find his work in many magazines and journals, including Rust & Moth, The Lumiere Review & trampset. His first full-length collection, Dawn’s Incision, was recently published by Icefloe Press.
