Holding Her Breath

Our previously reliable
front walk daffodils
haven’t yet bloomed.

I’m watching the trees in vain
for the customary signs
of imminent breakout.

It feels a little
like Gaia is holding
her Spring-quickened breath

before a plunge
into an ice-skimmed
drowning pool

and thinking 
about diving deep
then taking forever to return.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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