Spring loves:

A poem by Diane Seuss

April 21, 2024

the boldness of coldness, the diamond

edge of rimy
moons, mushrooms

sleeping in their rooted
tombs, and the night

blizzard that flaps
like a voluminous black

bedazzled
blazer in early March.

Spring hates:
to be the one to break

the news, rousing
bluebells

wearing green
house shoes.