Deborah Guzzi

spring stitched the horizon
budding with French knots of red
                    and jade and gold
the underpinning of branches
began to disappear
as the surface danced
with pointillism

kelly-green cuffed the lawn
daffodils were pocketed
in among the satin threads
                    of pine bark mulch
                    temperatures fluctuated
and though a layer of white snow
would still lace the collar of mother maples
it was merely winter´s last kiss

impossible, truly impossible it was
to dress for spring