Grace
Within my core
Lie dead leaves,
Worthless cresson pulp,
Frail fallen bits
Burnished with grumose tears.
Het up winds
Mound them in corners of me
Where they cling hard—
And meld with my bones.
Grace descends easy—
Gliding inward,
And crimps me close around,
With a snowy mantle—
Clean,
Pristine
Imparting warm
Gratuitous promise,
Of Endless Spring!
Within my core
Lie dead leaves,
Worthless cresson pulp,
Frail fallen bits
Burnished with grumose tears.
Het up winds
Mound them in corners of me
Where they cling hard—
And meld with my bones.
Grace descends easy—
Gliding inward,
And crimps me close around,
With a snowy mantle—
Clean,
Pristine
Imparting warm
Gratuitous promise,
Of Endless Spring!