IN THE SLANT OF SPRING

by Allegra Jostad Silberstein

winter withers and I,
as if in a gathering of feathers
take flight.

A braid of copper strands
arcs the wide river,
reaches into promises

like opiate of poppies,
like heralds of beginning
that enter the purple bud.

I notice the flight of leaf hoppers
just above the uncut grass,
its undulation of green

like a soul-search flight…
I remove my sandals…
go bare-foot into the grass.

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