LES SIGNES DU PRINTEMPS
Spring is in the air.
Birds here, there,
Everywhere
Chirping, twittering,
Fluttering, whistling,
Darting, swooping.
Nervousness
Nesting, perching;
Birds of prey spying,
Crows cawing, eyeing.
.
The slightest dusting
Of powdery snow
On trampled tufts
Of dormant grass
From Summer past,
Awaiting its chance
When sunbeams dance
To refresh
Stately evergreens.
.
No sign of sprouts.
Too early, not yet.
It's been too cold
Or it's been too wet.
They're not so bold,
Don't like to freeze.
They weren't at ease
Thinking they'd drown
On flooded ground.
.
And the north wind
Sends its chilly gusts
As it hangs around
Persuading us
To stay housebound,
Ignored by the robins
That have come back
To shelter behind
My writing shack.
.
Today at noon
From the living room
A large black crow,
Distinguished
By its sheen,
Aroused my keen eyesight
Since with all its might
It managed to free
Some dead twigs from
The rosemary
That bade farewell
Eventually
To us last fall.
.
It then flew off
Furtively
To the highest tree
In the neighborhood,
Definitely
The very best
Place for a nest
Far away from pests
Where he and his mate
Will soon invest
In parenthood.
.
Will these daily showers,
Typical of April,
Help nurture May flowers
As they wash away,
Make it go, that dirty snow?
We have had enough;
Our winter was tough.
We welcome the signs of spring.
Like the birds, we want to sing.
Revised March, 2018
A/N I dedicated this poem to Sara E.Eliot, our very dear poetess/friend
who sadly passed away in 2016. Springtime makes me think of Sara's
delightfully entertaining poem, 'Man Maid', in which she described a dream
where she had a sexy man maid who wore pink undies. I am visualizing him
being most helpful to me right now while I am overwhelmed with spring cleaning.
This particular poem was indicative of Sara's unique and wonderful sense of humor.
I miss her dearly.
