Primabruna

 

Opening the shutters I see

                        precipitous Spring

wearing a blue chapeau—

                        blue, only,

through which what little early light

                        the lucid air

permits to penetrate

                        unscattered

turns bare earth warm

                        on impact. Otherwise,

as naked as the snow

                        left her.

Pulling back her shoulders

                        in the rising light,

pacing like a runway diva

                        she towers above us,

her blue toque

                        covering none of her nakedness,

                                                but only setting it off.