Whoever has a nose

Whoever has a nose
           for the past
let them disinter it
           I have no desire to rake
over fallen leaves
           today is about newness
fresh shoots on every branch
           a universe yearning for renewal
an end to the treacherous cold
           of winter months

seedlings are in the warm ground
           nests are being refurbished
In corners out of sight
           love is being freshly made
populations will swell
           and there will be
bright new flowers
           to celebrate the births

Love does not dwell
           it moves with the times
it accretes
           it musters its energies
it turns timid whispers
           into loud bellows
a proud rampant bull
           scattering the herd

Whoever has a nose for it
           let them loiter in cemeteries
overrun with squirrels and mice
           where piteous acts of passions
have come to sorrowful dust
           I’ll have none of it
not while I retain
           a single living breath

John Lyons