With the cycling seasonpines bow under winter’s last snow,white-haired crones, mourners lined up at the junction. With the cycling seasonice-studded river dressed in black silk,flanked by sequined shores, spectral mist infusion. With the cycling seasongray-scale landscape inked on white canvasawaits exchange–black crepe for spring pastel profusion. I’m a greenling when it comes to the fine craft of poetry forms, but this is my crack at writing a kinda, sorta triolet for dVerse Poets and a Friday Flash 55 in one post. The last five words (not necessarily the last five words in the poem) were the hardest. Image credit:forest by night by gyst on Flickr; Daffodil, Beckenham by dan taylor…