The world is still
with that hushed awareness
of unconquerable life
waiting to cover the naked bones of winter
with voluptuous reproduction.
Winter hangs trembling
from the tip of a greening elm;
the fleeting rainbow of ice and snow
captured in the purity of a raindrop.
The rich, black trunks make their last stand
before the misty green onslaught;
standing tall and solemn
amid the flamboyant courtship of spring,
lest they be caught dancing unawares.
My hands ache for a brush.
But who can capture this magic”
What artist can take the very breath of God
and lay it on canvas?