KS Culbreth

a spring came over me

A spring came over me like the breeze –
The joy of every season fled unknown
Is sown up inside me like the trees
Inside the seeds the wind has thrown.

Some ghost has entered my dreams
No face no voice no name;
Not a ghost of the past, the unredeemed,
But of some approaching claim.

Am I alone who’s seen the vision of two
Secret flowers bound in dying seeds,
A season past that no one ever knew,
Heard a whisper swallowed by the breeze?