SPRING

Only weather, never the same,
no shape, no edge, no final form.

A current moving through the ground,
low and humming, without sound.

The earth remembers how to lean,
from winter’s weight into green.

Not arrival, only return.

The soil forgets its frozen past,
slowly breaking, vast.

Rain remembers how to fall,
not l…Read More

Excerpt from “Forever Almost”
A Poem by Curly Grace

We were diamonds once
brief
brilliant
our bodies catching the sun
every pulse a shimmer
every glance a spark
as if the world could hold us
without breaking