Comes now
The Taurus month,
Trying to bulldoze into spring
Heads down, we face
A tough transitional season.
Outside winter hangs on,
Petulant; spitting snow often enough
Each day to summon mayhem,
Internal chaos, deep discontent;
We are forced to count on
The elusive sanity of change.
Still, there is a seminal lesson
In this awful stretch of recalcitrant days:
Just put your head down.
Stop already with the
Dream of blossom,
Tug of scented sultry sky,
Respite beckoning in sunset lining,
Certainty of some sufficient
All-is-well that we just
Can't yet find, because
It isn't there.
So the Bull steps in,
Blazing blind ambition
In the ring,
The reasons, handicaps,
And obstacles no match
For the distance of simple
Detach; wait, it's coming.
Passion finally stomps into survival,
Sing loud, bellow, scorch heaven,
Trumpet reason, logic,
It is April;
Season will arrive.
Meanwhile we listen
To the birds, we
Search the trees for
Scrim of green, we are
Just getting by until this obstinance
Gives in, and settles
Into spring.