by Tim Kavi
breath
the pneuma
to dead Earth
is coming
like the approaching
horsemen
across the meadow
of winter
riding swiftly
not destroying
but giving life
the first breath
of spring
arrives
after the winter
she brings hope
and promise
of a love
that is
new life
tending to me
like a gardener
of love
her lips are red
her smile wide
and white
her eyes
reflect
the graceful
movements
of her certain
riding
and in her arms
I grow like a plant
with arms
outstretched
to the sun
of her
arriving.
