They go, the early flags, the gory maples—

so too the daffodils & Lenten roses.

Other petals swirl & nights warm.

Buds thicken and cast shadows:

in a thunderstorm

I almost forget the ice that was.

Narcissi suckle watery paths;

meadows heap up emerald masses.

How green & I want to delight

except this undertow—it pulls so fast

passing before I recognize it—

like souls in Dante who can't see the present,

white lilacs curdle in pre-summer heat.

The parade I barely noticed was beginning

is already halfway down the street.