It is here but the colors
have stayed away. Guests
to no one—they pout inside
dark buds. The sky white—
astonished. Rivers are flowing
in spite of the same fragrance.
And people, awake like deer,
browse for a bright sleeve
among tarnished barns.
There is no one coming out
in green yet—but skies
drop blue, and the sun
goes right on burning down.