March Creek

March creek: 			
bleak scene 			
‘til growth peeks through wintry debris	
		as old leaves 	
			cascade 	
				past fresh beginnings.	
						
						
						
As it passes,			
	the butterfly connects 	
		forsythia yellow 	
		    to 			
	    daffodil gold.	
						


Dark colors 			
	erupt within,		
		spilling out old desires	
			that color the now.	
						
Though I paint the world rare	
	with palette raw,	
			in spite of this,	
					I miss you.



Myth mixes with memory
    insights into things done and felt and reacted to,
	in light of what’s happened 
			in others’ tales.