Inverse Spawn

Snowflakes
Countless millions
Tiny white kamikazes
Crash fruitlessly down on too warm earth
A Diaphanous veil
Muting the colors of a gray March morning
Dogwood’s nascent pinking blooms
Shiver at this rude arctic intrusion
An inverse spawn
Rushing downstream to death and rebirth
Evaporating back to their source
It will be in the fifties tomorrow
Winter’s icy talons
Carving their last futile furrows
On the broad shoulders
Of an inexorable
Southern Spring