After the Bombing

A chilly Spring unfurls itself

–most beautiful, more

heartless than hail

City pear-trees lift up

their foamy heads, hopeful as ever

the magnolias preen

brief-blooming, filling

their delicious creamy throats

with purple wine

And the willows–

oh, those grievous willows

luminous now at road’s edge

their pale yellow streamers

greening day by day

Everywhere you look

this new leafing-out:

each morning’s merciless


sharp as shrapnel