[Every green growing]
Every green growing flowering thing
is filling the air—Dame’s rocket vanilla
blends with honey-suckle, the tang
of waterleaf, the siren call of lily-
of-the valley, and below that note
the breath of last lilac blooms—breathe,
breathe, and even your own out-breath
adds its minty zest as the cherry trees
and pagoda dogwoods rain down
their pollen, as the wind stirs the mix
with some slight promise of rain—
only a month ago there was snow,
early dusk, the lake ice-locked—
now this rush, life calling to life to begin.
Robin Chapman’s most recent book, The Eelgrass Meadow, will be published by Tebot Bach this fall. Her poems have appeared recently in Alaska Quarterly Review, Prairie Schooner, and Bosphorus Art Project Quarterly. She is recipient of the 2010 Helen Howe Poetry Prize from Appalachia.
qarrtsiluni 
Yes! You’ve captured this “rush, life calling to life to begin.
I was intrigued by the square brackets around the title. I wonder if you’d care to comment on that choice.