An Aubade of Spring


Winter’s plodding sombre time
comes to a welcome close.
All things move slower in the cold
save my fingertips on my keyboard,
fallen leaves lie fallow
like fallen moods
lie sodden from their season’s melted blankets
awaiting the quickening
we all feel
just out of sight.

The sonorous drone of winter’s groan -
will it spring into exalted tune
when it warms?
Will it expand into the hum
of a trillion lives beginning?
Would my sodden heart
begin an aria to new beginnings?

Would my curious hands
weave words of magical cures?
Can I see past the pain of arthritic joints
and shoveler’s calloused hands to find
new growth, new starts,
and second chances?
I hunger for the new,
to wash the taste of the past
from my lips.

And so I watch this patch of sun
crawl along my wall until it kisses me.
Giving up on the harsh memories
of frost and rime, I think only
of greenery, the twitter of birds
and the soft kiss of love.

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