Will not stay still. Shrieking voices
Scolding, mocking, or merely chattering,
Always assail them. The Word in the desert
Is most attacked by voices of temptation,
The crying shadow in the funeral dance,
The loud lament of the disconsolate chimera.

Three days ago the peach tree
Was a skeleton of bare branches
Bark bumpy with woody welts
Today pink blossoms
Emerge as tiny brush tips
Ready to render unexpected beauty