poem for April 17

Can you dance an Exclamation Point?
A nod to Carl Sandburg

Spring is playing scrabble and making up new words
by jazz-knuckled plants, all improvisation
(soft to the touch before they nettle into weeds)
trading eights of exclamations,
verbs for telling your feet to be nimbly-joy-jalla-jokull
coupled to your heart ready to shoot out of its mountain cave
with pieces of spring translating into silky-syllables
of exotic languages, A tango of coy chirrup klakippuhring
and full-throated gusto of the caged tiger sculpture
(on display at the silent auction tonight)
and everything starts to dance with the wind
Faery skursly, fey and unscarcely.

(kj poem a day : April 17, 2010)