Safe haven for quick-expanding minds, I
won't want to leave you. Outside they
look at me harsh, outside before inside.
Outside twilight flees swifter, sooner--
smaller sky-fire before night. The trees have
grown their own shimmering flames by day.
Colorful walls keep out the cooling wind
and rain, though storms churn in here any-
way (I mean: brains--ask, disagree) while
outside clear skies give way to grey that
hangs there forever, promising snow to
clothe the naked limbs of blackened trees.
I'm afraid like dandelions in the greenfields
we'll scatter too far apart. Outside is
so much bigger, how will I find you again?
Outside the sun sheds its white cold mask
to thaw the ground with softer rays, urges
trees to stand taller--too fast, too soon! I
tell the crocuses underground to stay, to
rest a little longer, I ask the buds on the
trees to stop, and they obey: Spring pauses.
(The butterfly waits to break free. The
songbird falters in its northward flight.
Nothing fully wakes from its winter sleep.)
But then I wonder if
we can be content,
dreaming so safely here.
Not with summer stretching
at the limits of my fear,
swollen with this waiting, waiting,
loud with promises of more:
warm rain, hot skies,
greening life unfolding like the eager morning light.
Shelter for my childhood thoughts,
could I leave you behind?
I must, I must--
Outside the years race on.
won't want to leave you. Outside they
look at me harsh, outside before inside.
Outside twilight flees swifter, sooner--
smaller sky-fire before night. The trees have
grown their own shimmering flames by day.
Colorful walls keep out the cooling wind
and rain, though storms churn in here any-
way (I mean: brains--ask, disagree) while
outside clear skies give way to grey that
hangs there forever, promising snow to
clothe the naked limbs of blackened trees.
I'm afraid like dandelions in the greenfields
we'll scatter too far apart. Outside is
so much bigger, how will I find you again?
Outside the sun sheds its white cold mask
to thaw the ground with softer rays, urges
trees to stand taller--too fast, too soon! I
tell the crocuses underground to stay, to
rest a little longer, I ask the buds on the
trees to stop, and they obey: Spring pauses.
(The butterfly waits to break free. The
songbird falters in its northward flight.
Nothing fully wakes from its winter sleep.)
But then I wonder if
we can be content,
dreaming so safely here.
Not with summer stretching
at the limits of my fear,
swollen with this waiting, waiting,
loud with promises of more:
warm rain, hot skies,
greening life unfolding like the eager morning light.
Shelter for my childhood thoughts,
could I leave you behind?
I must, I must--
Outside the years race on.