Leggy and Aching for Warm Earth

This bright morning is crisp,
festooned with the transient light
that always tumbles into a new day,

an eager heart
done with the rambling
and the telling of constant mourning
transformed into the joyful faces of red blossoms,

like geraniums in tin cans
on a windowsill, leggy
and aching for warm earth
and room to spread roots
into the mother's breast

and stretch into awakening
and laughter with a breath of spring.