Source

Spring yawns; and blossoms spill into my ear,
as winter breaks the mirror of a tear.
Eyes rhapsodize in piquant shades of blue.
Kisses fall soft as rain in morning dew.

Dawn unbraids luminous hair with a sigh,
bright filaments of light that span the sky;
and molten is the moment of return,
when roses in their whirling start to burn.

On prisms of a rainbow pirouette,
she sashays into golden silhouette
then somersaults into divinest art
as words that woo the poet's beating heart.

A source of divination born in rows
of silken strokes of poetry and prose,
in the green palm of all eternity,
she is planted that she might flower free.

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Your exquisitely fine eye and ear never cease to amaze me.

Filaments of incandescence arise from your natural attentive grace.

"Spring yawns; and blossoms spill into my ear,/as winter breaks the mirror of a tear." Winter breaks the mirror of a tear. Stunningly cinematic.

"A source of divination born in rows/of silken strokes of poetry and prose,/in the green palm of all eternity,/she is planted that she might flower free."

The Source-erer's garden of your expressive soul-mind is the most beautiful place I could ever linger. . ."when roses in their whirling start to burn."

Flower free, divine darling.

[Mark]

"Dawn unbraids luminous hair with a sigh..."
Golly what a picture!
Reminds me of a time when a had a job, down near the coast (pre-Katrina), that had me getting off work around dawn a large part of the year, and I was privileged to witness those luminous locks unbraiding on many mornings, being as it were combed out by a silver brace of celestial cirrostratus...
Thanks for evoking a most pleasant memory, THE most, perhaps, of the last decade....

[Forest Green]

'On prisms of a rainbow pirrouette,...'
The words among many others reveal your skill as a practitioner of words; pressing science until the beauty of the truth is found.

[Jim Clarke]

I think this poem captures the physical beauty of spring.