Without a Question in Time

A sleeve of rain in the temperature of silver,

ground thaw downward toward absorptive oval,

to bring what's under cusp up above through

coils lasting as long as today as brief tomorrow,

born persistent for growth hearkened each night

that begins as it goes, day, ever not being forever,

recognized by us first through the tiniest crocus

awakened with moonlight's imaginative color,

a threshold for green stars surreptitiously lit

until englossed and blazoned by our fully born sun,

offering a visible parallel of enjoyable splendor,

ancestral it is every petal, that is an active process,

named like changeable birthstars while thoughtful

winds maiden along itinerant birds inside minstrel

songs, and heard by who knows what's not included.