Saturday, April 12

Still?


I thought, coming in April, it would be spring here.

Tonight the snowflakes swirl outside my window,
As sentiment still swirls in my mind.
A chaos of boxes and paper and belongings surrounds me.
I am happy/sad. I am excited/numb. I am tired.
I crave order.

Instead, the wind blows. The rain becomes snow.
The ground - too warm to accept this coat -
Turns glittering crystals back to their liquid state,
And greens the grass.

The boxes dwindle, relegated to the garage.
The dishes and pots find yet another new home.
The first crocus blooms drink in the rain.
My dreams reflect where I've been
And where I'm headed.

This is spring.


4 comments:

Lilian said...

Beautiful poem! Happy Spring, it has "sprung" here too! :-)

Shelli said...

Congratulations on surviving the move! Beautiful poem. Wishing you well in your new home.

jena strong said...

Yes, this is spring. Welcome home.

Anonymous said...

The only season there is! So glad you're still in this neighborhood.