The Earth Turns South/The Eternal Courtesies
THE ETERNAL COURTESIES
March. . . . The gully is harsh and cold,Jagged with outpushed rocks and naked tree-trunks,Pocked with dust-spotted snow, crumbling and treacherous,A petulant trickle in the stream bed.
April—and over night it wakes!A rainbow mist buds on the trees,—Gray and timid green, ashen crimson and gold,—The emerald flaunt of skunk-cabbage laughs by the stream-bed,The hooded pitcher-plants, in arrogant red, among them.Spring beauty and violet hillocks pimple the hillside,And the golden sunbursts sparkle here and there,The lily-like adder's tongue, graceful, glowing.
O month of the fitful sun and rain,Thanks for these sweet courtesies!