springtime’s shy sister who

spreads blood through leafy tendrils 

of hair who

feels every color all too much

every day i remember that

birds escape nordic hills in 

quilt patterns 

sewn on a dirt floor sky

a small textbook diagram 

i only know from

air conditioned rooms from

burying my nostrils in paperback tombs

obituaries of peach faced years

everything is always blooming

not in lilacs or daisies

but because i am so overwhelmed by

every little thing