End of March
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Kristut
What was only October, and now in March ... not even close to March - the end of March. Would not a miracle again I slept - Bullfinch and frost, snow earring? Among last year's grass - leaf decay, dirt, pearl fragments - but perhaps no longer the same? Want, who disappeared in the memory what to hide, what soft absorbed sleep emptiness. And suddenly, through a branch - Green March, the ice ... It's like a premonition that something over there, where you've been, you know he had not seen - only long forgotten everything by heart. (Donald Kajokas. Green March ice)
