Under snow, pansies thinking, already in bloom, quietly waiting ~ 

Gulls whirling white above snow, hundreds of wings into clouds vanishing ~

And later, bees down deep in the flowers of the trumpet vine, three in one blossom, drunk and dazed and none sorry because orange flowers are whole worlds and there’s enough for all and more and plenty and anyway nothing on Earth is meant for one alone which is why the bee has no word for love, the thing that is all and ever ~

Now and all morning and even in the dark dark, windows open wide, birds singing ~

And beyond, always, wind flowing into leaves, rain becoming tulips,
Everywhere a blaze of green,
gone the way of water ~