Spring reconciles the hillside,
and recalls her elegance.
Bitter arms mellow, and bud
into magenta tufts, snatched
from nestling in deep winter
pockets. She pardons her
branches through dazzling
celebrity crowds of dogwood,
and flowering plum; gently
stroking the strut of assumed
preeminence. A rosy-pink
supporting role, for a gentle,
The Third Hand
Downy, ocher feather dusters
whisk jubilant sonnets into dusk
trails, and preen satin rouge blush
with sun kisses.
He descends 'Jacobs Ladder,' dips
his chartreuse wave in The Holy
Grail, and anoints her brow
with crop oil; transfiguring
drops of Edstrom water
into chalices of wine.
Black pea inlays set in cultured
pearl, sleuth-eye a picture
window mirror, and whisker-snip
graven images banished into deep,
brackish, backwater pools: forgotten.
He brandishes mottled wings
at ashen clouds, dissipating bumps
in the night; rebel-dancing,
and singing in latter rain.
Kevin Heaton writes in South Carolina. His work has appeared in: Flutter Poetry Journal, Grey Sparrow Journal, Victorian Violet Press, Elimae, Nibble, and others. He is listed as a notable poet at: KansasPoets.com.