spring will come when . . .

Yesterday it melted outside big time! Water running in the streets. Elizabeth and I measure each day's height of snow along our driveway. And yes, I chop a little ice in the gutter by the catch basin to hasten the flow of water. (I did that back when I was a kid . . . and convinced myself that it "helped Spring come sooner.")

Here is a poem.


spring will come when . . .

the heavy, sweet scent
   of clove currant wakes
         the neighborhood

fiddlehead ferns slowly rush
    through leaf-covered dirt
         toward light

I touch fuzzy,
    ground-loving, purple,
         wild ginger flower

I hear the
    coo of a dove.