Lions and Lambs

Spring came in terrible.
Endless, the sheets of rain,
the bony cast-off limbs
blown to our sodden feet.

Winters go out this way—
writhing. Just as Summers
go out withered. And then,
all those smothered Autumns.



But then, why should seasons
go out quietly? All
these comings and goings,
so rough ‘round the edges:

the seasons of daughters,
writhing against rising
adolescence’s mixed
and muddy, inbound tide;


dark seasons of the sea,
the air, movement and bone,
seasons of tears pushed, pulled,
into the wiggling world.

dark waters

Spring comes in terrible,
and other dark endings
are surely still to come,
but somehow only Spring

goes out easy, melting,
into Summer. For once,
a slow exhale before
that sweet and sucking heat.

Again, March breaks us. Then
April slowly rebuilds,
gentle, not too gentle,
within May’s soft belly.


by Ryan Warren                         |                   Artwork by Kira Leigh               |       Feature Image by Wellington Sanipe

Ryan Warren

Ryan Warren lives with his family by the sea in Northern California. His poetry has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Page & Spine, Amaryllis, Wilderness House Literary Review, Firefly Magazine, The Mindful Word, Ekphrastic, Plum Tree Tavern and the anthology, Carry The Light. More on his published works can be found at