Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Almost Mid-March \ Now Rises April

Alan: Winter, like all of us, can be vain, even as it starts to show its age.

Almost Mid-March

Winter notices its fat thighs.
It thinks it’s a white beast
breathing down all our necks.
But it looks at itself now
and sees: cellulite.  Or at least
the snow sagging and dimpling
under this outrage of sun.
This breeze from afar.

Just days ago winter, sorcerer,
sorceress? – this ungendered maw,
taut belly of need, held us,
batted us around as it willed.
But today?  Today winter
looks at the calendar.
Almost mid-March.  Suddenly

it’s tired, tired of all its tricks
and tired of itself.  Time,
thinks winter, for a vacation.
Time to attend to those thighs.
Time enough to go
and come back ravenous
and roaring one more time.

Nancy: Waiting for a day of mild air, a day when I might take a deep breath and hum an old tune from my childhood.

Now Rises April

as from a winter sleep
     as from a dark constellation

April rises: birdsong, watersong
     green shoots, promise of flowers

saltmarsh perfume, call of shorebirds
     as from a dark sleep

I rise, surprised, take a step
     toward rising light

toward the promise of flowers
     an old woman


fair, fair is the morning

No comments:

Post a Comment