Before Green

Not in raptures
not in bloom
(not in someone's living room)
not in songs
and not in style
not in ruse
and not in guile,
not in sweetness
but in light
comes the spring--
a sorry sight.

Wreck of winter
mold of snow
wind that everywhere
does blow,
wasted summer
faded fall
roses once
that stood so tall--
spring now cuts them
down to size,
prunes us back
and makes us wise.