Ode to Cecil Bruner
Thursday, April 28th, 2011Tangles of cobwebs woody thicket Catches sweaters, scratches hands. Dull bundle invites spiders, small birds. Winter weary. April warmth coaxes tiny buds From dry joints. Pale pink brightens limbs Like little Christmas lights Or the silk rosebuds ringing the collar Of a child’s pink leotard. Cecil Bruner, that rosy harbinger Promises nothing less than weddings, [...]





