Unscarred

How I long for the succulent kiss
of a spring without cold breath
of wind on my neck.

Where is the temple of warmth
and longest days
that hush me without warning
to the craft of relaxation
and mindful relief?

Break my longing from the burl
in the bark of the maple
and let my joy ooze like sap
from the wound
until I heal
in the sun
unscarred.