But this picky girl
On a ceremonial walk in April
With his last suitor
Was suddenly struck, intolerably,
By the irregular hubbub of the birds
And through the disorder of the leaves
Afflicted by this tumult, she
Saw her lover’s gestures unbalance the air
His gait wandering, uneven
Through a row of ferns and flowers.
She judged the petals in disarray,
The whole season neglected.
How she longed for winter, then!
Scrupulously austere in its order
white and black,
Ice and rock, every feeling well circumscribed
And the cold discipline of the heart
Exact like a snowflake.
But here – a budding
Turbulent enough to cast his five royal spirits
In a vulgar variegation –
Unbearable betrayal. That the idiots
Stagger, stunned, in the spring ruckus:
She withdrew skillfully
And round her house she set up
Such a barricade of obstacles and barbed wire
Against the Mutinous Season
That no insurgent man could hope to break it
By swearing, fist, threat
Not even out of love.