The Crimson of Spring by Carol Louise Moon

Anna's hummingbird would fit inside my pocket.

If only I could catch him with my hand. Crimson

is in the eye of the beholder this sunny day in

bloom along the curb.  A fantasy of crimson

seems to spring up everywhere.  Pockets of tiny

pink weed and red eye-winks of sweet pea--

spring's handiwork evident in our yard.

Crimson roses venture through our redwood

fence. Crimson breast of robin, brown eye-band

of cedar waxwing--Crow's eye is on the smallest

of them all.

Spring provides a bounty and a tragedy. Crimson

flow of blood--Crow's had his hand in this... and

something more.  Everywhere I sense a struggle.

Suddenly, the least of these will spring to flight

escaping heavy hand of Crow, his royal crimson

heart a pocket hole.

Though I love spring, and "Oh, 'tis grand," I see

the hand of fate--the surprise of crimson.

Carol Louise Moon is a Simulated Client Actor, and a poet who has work published in Suisun Valley Review (CA), California Quarterly, Everything Stops and Listens (Ohio), Time of Singing (PA), Peeking Cat Poetry Mag (UK) and Sacramento Voices Anthologies.