Spring, A Reprise (and a short process note)

You can call this an experiment, a last-ditch, so to speak, attempt to marry tanka and cinqain stanzas into a longer poem by alternating them in a revisiting of the content of much of the short spring-themed calendrical pieces I pumped out over the last few months. It’s a a good-bye to spring, I guess, and likely to my torturings of the cinquain form as well—at least for now. Time to move on to some other form for a bit…though I’ve no idea which I’ll tackle. If anyone has any suggestions, I’ll consider them and pick one to explore and try to master.

Spring, A Reprise

Now that spring has splashed
out so prodigally these
colours—from the first
bright rush of red high up on
the slender tips of birches

in late
and the precocious spears
of crocus shooting up through snow
in March

and April to spread
purple, blue, and yellow like
bruises old and new
made by winter’s grasping hands
while pussy willows scavenge

for glints of ice
to trim the coats they sew
together from swathes of stolen

through the rum-sweet scent
clinging to wind that nuzzles
all the faintly blushed
throats of magnolia blossoms
on their nights of white satin

in May,
the scent the wind
trails under and around
apple trees until their petals
burn red,

then grow pale, tremble
and fall as the languorous
lilacs open their
flowers, pink, white, and purple,
to the wind and its vagrant

of warmth waiting
later, later in June—
it must wander the ditches now

each stalk of lupin
with the odds and ends of its
palette’s last scrapings,
but for the honey locust
nothing but these pale-green dregs

thinned with
a cat piss smell
leaking through sweet perfume
distilled from all of spring’s fallen


The Moody Blues – Nights In White Satin

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Apple Blossoms, Art is lies, Art is theft, Cinquain, Honey locust, John MacKenzie, Lilacs, Lupins, Magnolias, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Spring, Summer, Tanka, The Moon, The Wind and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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