I almost see the vernal equinox,
palms outward, chin uprisen, visage bright
chartreuse on photosynthesizing clocks,
on waking gardens undercast with light.
Approaching taller days of spring I sense
arousing dawn and dusk-extending hours,
when shadows mimic pickets of a fence
enclosing air, supporting aerie towers.

I’ll be as unconventional as earth,
as partnerless as God, as fair as now.
Let spring engender in me what rebirth
it can, let balancing of light allow
my labyrinth appearance. From this height
the maze is clear. Perspective makes it right.