The Dogwood Near My House

Comes on the same time each year,
like a light in the woods,
ravishing white,
shimmering soft as moonlight,
a spread of icy cool loveliness
lifting in a silent spree
beckoning like a ghost to me
Lenten and licentious both
I let you rise for beauty’s worth
And something more.
Your pale dewy fingers seem to lurk
Your April breath pulses quiet
Yet leans at times a certain way
as if your fierce golden shine
might even drop with these thoughts of mine
into my darling’s buried heart and bones
as upon some great rocky mountain cracked
to stones.