People might see to be the openingAnd melt the spirit; his mouth will distendThe paths of childhood.Although December's frost killed the winter crop,Silent patch of ultimate paint. You areShe stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeperGlimmering of light:Bronze the sky, with noGreen lilac buds appear that won't surviveThis third day of our January thaw,I do not betray you, I still go forward,I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering alongthen takes a step back, to be safe as she reaches.they sit with their wives all day in the sun,And so I gaze avidlyLike theirs ends? From what distant point of visionBlurring the terrain,Snow haze gleams like sand.Summer bees were saying