Spring, renewal of precious life
With rain for days and cold far below the norm, we arrived home from Florida late on the night of April 16, 2007. Where was Spring? Had we passed Her along the way? If Spring had been hitch-hiking on Route 95, we would have gladly offered her a ride.
This afternoon the rain abated and the temperature rose to 50, so I ventured into the soggy yard. Buds, sprouts of green, crocuses and tulip leaves were visible, nudging through the mulch I had placed last October. Small, reddish nubs of renewed life could be seen along the twig-like branches of the birch and the smoke tree.
But the prize of this chilly foray to the yard was the sight of the tightly curled promise of rhubarb, and I imagined from this April glimpse, the full stalks pulled, chopped, stewed, cooled and served on the deck overlooking the gardens in full bloom.
Eternal is Spring
the season of promise,
of life to which we hold so dear,
the blush of soft and tender greens
in many shades as Nature wakes.
I scruffed the mulch, pulled some grasses
and knew the reason we’d come home.
Soon the rain began again and drove me from the yard.
We sat and watched tapes of a crazed mind,
the slaughter of college kids,
whose Spring is now Eternal.
I went again into the yard,
looking for answers.
Copyright © Rye Reflections 2007. All rights reserved.