Three Days into Spring
It is good to see spring come, but I like snow and always have a twinge of sadness when it gives way to the drab earth tones that precede the full-blown colors of spring and the imminent sense of summer.
Three Days Into Spring
Three days into spring.
No robin yet as harbinger to sing
or search among the matted weeds
where the last vestige of snow recedes
toward the shady cold.
The snowman that we rolled
and laughing lofted to its height
is gone but for one sad and small stalagmite,
standing sentinel in the sun
between two branches now undone,
the fallen arms of make-shift mirth
at rest again... upon the waking earth.
© Copyright March, 2005 , TK, Patterns of Ink
(The next day even the clump was gone, and a few days after that, there were seven robins foraging together near the very spot where it stood.)