Blind By Spring

Gaunt Puck for padding comes looting, Autumn
finds flags, nacarat not white, still stricken:
Summer's. Her frigid singe to his auburn
heart submits, spinster stagnantly slickened 
by April showers cold on the rebound.
It's the last chance saloon of the seasons
for me really: in a relative stound,
thieved reels will superabound. Shivelight on
electrum bark, shredded komorebi,
won't spark up Eyes of Id next March. As if
honking peonies post-peotomy,
no last stark solis occasum will live.
Penultimate sunset's 1 pleasuring
brumal babyblues more when blind by spring.

*************************************
*************Schwarze flocken

snowdrift in macular
massacre this winter, my vitreous
humour's all kohl. In Miltonic crosshair,
a vision of Hell, & that vision is 
blind as a doorpost. Longer days to come
won't de-ice subzero subfusc windscreens
to my soul. No so-so solatium
of another ortus solis shall beam
LASIK Prozac to my optimism
cortex by time the sap rises anew.
Anarchy Optrex blackblocks the prism,
apes archaeopteryx's worm's eyeview.
Flyleaf sun source blotted of all inklings.
Next Summer's over; I'll be blind by spring.