PoetryEtc Featured Poet: Liz Kirby

You want me to tell you
the secret of Spring.

I am the secret
it is the same as my blood.

Chestnuts croon hundreds of hands,
breathe a thousand paces.

I have nothing to say my love
because I move slow as a river,

but I wonder in my instance of speech
why the sky sighs your question.

Give me velvet dear sister,
sleep curled on my daybed.

Give me warm soft fabric,
drink the vitamins of love.

I do not know
your half of the secret.