Seeking Spring

I am the tree-in-winter man
bough bent with wintry woes
seeking spring.

Inside, below the gnarled and ravelled rind,
inscribed by glacial ink in cruel seasons,
exigencies and crises lie curled
concentrically in seized circles
from heartwood to the bark.

Inside, again, sap congealed and gelid
trapped static in harsh-hardened tracheids,
sits still pooled and sorrow chilled
in serried cellular ranks
from yesterday’s roots to tomorrow’s twig.

Yes, I am the tree-in-winter man
waiting for spring’s demulcent peach-pink
breath to melt and liquefy
from frigid core to icebound bole
and tempt the sap to surge and rise.

And then these soft green buds
I harboured in the long dark days
will plump and swell;
and blossoms white as snow
will ecstatically burst the knotted bark
to be strewn and scattered on the ground
finding spring.

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Cover Picture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/7911705@N07/2210348181/