On a raw late April morning, walking down a puddled lane that
snakes and rises through the back woods of town, I can’t help but think….
Quite a thing…quite a thing, this spring.
Residual drops from last night’s rain cling to blades of thirsty
lawns.
A small break of sun splits the clouds; tendrils of steam rise
off the heated roadway as robins splash in pollen painted
pools.
Again…I can’t help but think….
Quite a thing…quite a thing, this spring.
Drooping rows of lilacs bow as I pass by; down, but not out,
bent but not defeated.
A Dog yaps as he passes; the owner assuring, he only wants
to play.
A jogger slogs by scattered rows of tulips; they struggle to stand
tall again, reaching towards the sun.
Pink eared Dogwoods sway within a breeze that nibbles more
than bites; squirrels jump from branch to branch, in the moment, uncaring, but
not uncertain.
Azaleas, splashed in white, purple, pink, and red, stand
proud like King and Queen watching by the gate.
The mourning dove coos, the woodpecker pecks, a hawk soars and a pair of chipmunks dart
beneath parked cars.
The air is moist and cool.
The earth refreshed.
Again…I can’t help but think….
Quite a thing…quite a thing, this spring.
At first, I thought this should be set to music. Then I understood that it IS music. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Joan. That means a lot. Kind of out of my comfort zone, but it’s good to try something else on the salad bar once in a while. Sometimes you have to step away from the blue cheese.
DeleteJust popped into my head while I was out walking the other morning, after all the rain, so I went with it.
I especially like: "pollen painted pools" and ... "rows of lilacs bow." Sometimes I have trouble understanding poetry, so I wrote a poem myself. It turned out pretty good; I didn't understand it. So I knew I was heading for the big leagues.
ReplyDelete