Jane 

Beneath benign 

shadow blankets 

smothering core of self 

in doubt 

(--these deadened slate gray skies of lead that murk the quirks of living depth--) 

belong multifarious 

steely feels of rounded things in sync 

left out: 

Glowless polychromic thoughts 

of alignment Timeless in their 

inklings, 

prodding hopes reality 

still will shout 

the words that ring 

in truthful sing 

all what-if songs to 

tout in Spring. 

Like Happy patch of 

brightwet grass surprising eyes with 

emerald green 

The way the snow sootstained retreats 

in melt to full reveal 

selfsame patch of waterbright grass surprising eyes with heal of feel.

{...Danton...}