Experimentation

Recently, I have been experimenting with a poem written in four parts that can be read in any order, inspired by certain recent films and series which demonstrate similar characteristics.

The excerpt below is my poetry experiment's Spring section (or part two). Any thoughts on its stand-alone charm? Does it work as an individual poem?

Spring from Walk Around the Reservoir

Blades of vibrant green budded brightly as the man walked through the new spring, cursing at the puddles left from winter. Now he could see the path reaching through the season, only growing warmer but never offering to return his companion. Waking animals with small ears and large eyes hopped around his feet, playing ring-around-the-rosy but not once inviting him to enjoy. His coat, an early Christmas gift, grew heavy in the changing seasons, and he shed it, as if emerging into a fresh form, not unlike the last but his eyes no longer held the twinkle of winter stars.

The reservoir began filling with swans; arching their necks taunting him with the natural hearts that they boasted in pairs. His eyes lingered on the waters, still cold yet now teeming with life, a bitter contrast to himself. With the yellow sun posing in the sky, the man’s shadow sat beneath him, as if rejected by invisible barriers created by soft mounds of dirt and leafy hedges. His breath becoming haggard as he pushed on, chasing after the woman, turned his teeth ashy and grey while petal scented air blew in, forcing pretty words upon his tongue, hiding his misery.

The spring rushed by quickly, unlike the winter that had seemed endless. The approaching corner was bright, brighter than the spring, and hot, hotter than the sun which seemed to expand and blind the man as he looked around one last time. His journey had been empty. Not once had the sweet scent of buds or the harmonious sound of the blue tits been a comfort, they were only markers of time passing. Slowing as he reached the next corner, a light breeze encouraged him to continue, tugging at his arms and nudging at his legs. Groaning, loud enough for it to ripple across the water, the man left his barren spring.