Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 25, 2015

Gigolo of Spring~by Norman Wilson



Gigolo of Spring

He creeps in the darkness of our lives
From hallows of the winds blown tides
In the winter rawness to what whiffs
Beneath drifts of melting snow-slides

He hides in the shadows of chilling cold
Waiting as icy-streams spill in deep runs
Then nuzzles and purrs in winter’s truss
In one last freeze in the folly of the sun

Waning faces polished in raw redden cheeks
As the gigolo future befalls the new present
That has now become winter’s lingering past
For the gigolo of nature has new residence

Rising from wicker chairs to see spring dance
To see what eyes could see unfolding beyond
Beyond a month of dawning days of new light
As the gigolo gives birth to a new spring dawn

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