April 17.

Spring

Was called for almost a month ago.

Flowers

And Showers

Are supposed to be our lot now.

But

I Am

In the storehouses of the snow.

This place

Says, “no”

To the new.

Old

Wineskins

Die hard,

Even in the temples which worship new growth.

When

The Mystery gets used to what was

Spring

Cannot find its Space.

But

I Am

Not

Staying in the storehouses of the snow,

Insists

“Wine flow,

In

Daffodils

And lilacs.

Survive.

Crack

Those old

Casks and finally

Burst Forth!”