Mark R Slaughter (1957)

Green slipped out from under the white -
Splashed in early other colours,
And gave up lambs, who
Bleated tirelessly on the subject.

Screams from the nearby park
Told of newly playful children, with
Bleary fathers, clattering mothers,
Undersense befuddled by a perfume -
It was the budding blossom.

And younger men perked up at
Early bosoms once again parading;
More blossom - audacious blooms:
Sexual selection back on stage.

It was happening with the birds,
Only there was more decorum,
More order - a greater sense of purpose,
Unwitting duty.

I turned over the soil - warming
Under the cautious sun -
Yellow still nubile,
Though coping with its shyness.
My first beads of sweat were oddly ambivalent:
Surging vigour forcing out the
Stubborn winter indolence.

Inside, a warming smile worked
Up towards my mouth, lips, eyes.
The kitchen window rattled:
Lunch was ready.






Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










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