Spring Cleaning
Pigeons skim over the mall, then scatter,
break like a rolling surf over the crowds below,
hawking in dry wind slipping down from the mountains,
swarming up to nest in the stone and glass façade –
a flock of St. Germain gargoyles grinning at ghosts;
it is Spring, and hopeful light chases away shadows,
the sun melting iced wing-tips with gold felt.
Rose skies crackle, the petals rubbed along the west –
fading, as the ruby washed from her lips;
but her smile lingers, Cheshire sure, and
the sun still sparkles along the curved horizon of her eyes;
it is Spring, and fresh buds struggle for freedom,
stretching out from limbs rich in green velvet.
We no longer lock warm fingers or kisses
or walk the same roads together,
our marriage neatly packed away in a blue shoebox,
but the light is soft, the future unscripted;
it is Spring, after all, and days reach out for Summer,
and anything, absolutely anything, is possible.
~ Rob K. Omura
Robert K. Omura lives in Calgary, Alberta, Canada where he practices law. He is active in education, law reform, the environment and the outdoors. His fiction and poetry appears or is forthcoming in literary journals, ezines and anthologies, including the Raving Dove, the Rose & Thorn, and Paradigm, and he read his poetry, from the anthology Writing the Land: Alberta through its Poets, on CBC Radio for National Poetry Month in 2008. He is currently working on a novel, but that’s slow going at best.
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