april

i.

this life in spring is a violent push upwards

against the hard broken earth-

soft sun, soft blue, all movement cloaked in beginning-

ii.

in the cracked concrete heart of

this place weeds push up in dark

stringy green and out at the wider

edge of living, yellow flowers bend

low beneath the flight-path, the sonic

rush of noise and force disappearing

in one white-blink gaze of morning