The Untamed Woman

Forsythia

She skips the leaves

Straight to flowers

Skipping foreplay

Her sun-soaked skeleton

Belongs to the wind

Not the hummingbirds or the honeybees 

Her carnivorous color devours winter

Shocking domesticated eyes

She mocks your forecasts

Trusts her intuition,

Three more snows after my bloom

They debate her worth

Fear her wildness 

Hack her into submission

Still

She returns

Shining