First Draft of a Poem

I wrote this poem a few weeks ago, as Winter took over again after a late winter Buffalo heatwave.  It may need some working through, but I'll let it go out into the world as-is.

This Year
by
Susan Harris-Gamard

This year

The buds of the magnolia have browned

Like a half-charged memory growing ill

                                                And withered in the new light.

Extinguished by the faceted brilliance

 Of Sir Frost’s shocking freeze.

The sonorous footfalls of his size 12 boots

Echo long beyond any welcome.

This mere shadow of a bloom heals me

With its smothered vow of surety

And the soft cry of hope within

Its withering frame.

As the brown petals meet the ground

My own arms unfurl to greet

Master Spring as He Leaps Forward

In grassy slippers as delicate as breath.