Spring

After a long winter’s grimace,
the pond parts its lips—

in a whisper of algae
below the surface;

in a sigh 
of spun sugar over dark water;

and then,
in a wide smile, the slick backs of turtles 
stacked along fallen logs like mossy teeth.

Now, gluttonous hours that refused
to leave winter’s banquet have retired, 
sated,

and light stippling the undergrowth
releases its breath.

Everything exhales.

Turning our faces to the sky,
we purge our winter bowels.
We tease our thin, cold pages
into sunny sheaves.

And calling our winter vapor to matter,
we let the March wind spirit us brightly
into green fields and beyond.

         Shannon Vesely