It bursts green out of the bloody red spring
of young radish sprouts in giddy new mayhem
and ends, in an immeasurably ironic reversal,
with damp raptures in a crowded wet summer-
the orange giggle of pin-oak suddenly pokes
into the quick shimmer green of north white light
and speeds up waving crisp blue curtain beams
through the too early close of a frost black snow.