Spring loves:
A poem by Diane Seuss
the boldness of coldness, the diamond
edge of rimy
moons, mushrooms
sleeping in their rooted
tombs, and the night
blizzard that flaps
like a voluminous black
bedazzled
blazer in early March.
Spring hates:
to be the one to break
the news, rousing
bluebells
wearing green
house shoes.