THIS spring as it comes bursts up in
bonfires green,
Wild
puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in
wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery,
flickering
rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this
conflagration
Of
green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that
puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my
gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I
among
This leaping
combustion of spring? My spirit is
tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in
the throng
Of
flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is
lost.