for Julia Rios
sister, when you
speak
it is spring
lilacs sunning at the
gate
drone-drowsy
bumblebee, tender
trellising of
green
listen! there are
violets
in your voice, my darling
mossy nooks and
depths of grape
hyacinth
a grin of maneless
dandelions
gathers yellow
at your throat
you declaim in garlands
shyly
say on, O
sweetheart
of this kindly
season
convoke dew-
struck meadows of
radical
wildflowers