It's Still Life

The Oracle Shouts Spring

I.
Winter was a sharp howling war,
Sunday’s spring was utter calm;
a day of molten glory and sun,
of nights crowding stars pressed
troubled faces upon the sky.

II.
The sea roiled rough though wind
laid calm; thick-flecked with light
under the light of stars, a shuffle
of sands in lapsing tide, a slow
wash of water on the pebbles.

III.
There’s an orchard in the valley.
Another on the hill. Spring flowers
flaunt their lacy frill— bulb, bud
and root for its careful blossom
in this cool, but reluctant spring.

IV.
They were all there; the fronds
and tresses. Leaves and dew,
and rain wet on curling tufts,
and little unknown shoots that
made grey coolness their mother.

V.
I can’t pretend to tell the way it is.
Spring looks as if some magic
of the sun lifted winter’s rug
and shrugged off frost and ice,
light is longer, our days on the run.

Note: This cadralor is based on 7 words from the Oracle.