Hour Two

Rays of sunshine
pierce through the
fabric of hope
like hot daggers
searing
cauterizing
the wounds of
winter’s blush
melting the ventricles
of a heart’s cold season
when the chamber doors
had closed
like an iron fist.
A heart that beats
with filagree
laced by fingers
that cradle it softly
heated by touch
and breath;
a fog of heat
in the early morning
hovering over
the hard ground
as it is loosed
from months of slumber.
Watered by the spring-
a fountain of youthful
optimism
for the promise
of life
in this new season.