Spring
She waited:
breath held,
lungs bursting,
for spring to come and take the edge
(the mirror sharp
skate blade
broken glass
icicled edge)
off; to bring the relief
of green
and blue. Waited.
Waited through dryer lint
grey skies
flattening and heavy
falling wet and cold
on already chapped cheeks;
waited, still, red fingers numb,
through dark drives to work
and dark drives home
watching the calendar
mental red X's.
waited, still longer,
through inaccessible ice windshields
sputtering engines
dirty sidewalk slush
each day harder to get out of bed.
Waited, because
it is this that means sanity;
this that separates the blues or the blahs
from still darker evils;
this hope, this knowledge
a seed still in us somewhere
that even while dormant, dimly remembers
how it feels to thaw.
Dimly knows
it will always get better, eventually.
She waited,
eyes watering in the wind,
but open.
It came,
one day with a crocus,
one morning without headlights,
with the shedding of layers,
with the blinking at sudden brightness;
dazzled.
It came,
and like every year
she breathed in that relief of green
re-learned her miracles
and remembered to have faith
all over again.
She waited:
breath held,
lungs bursting,
for spring to come and take the edge
(the mirror sharp
skate blade
broken glass
icicled edge)
off; to bring the relief
of green
and blue. Waited.
Waited through dryer lint
grey skies
flattening and heavy
falling wet and cold
on already chapped cheeks;
waited, still, red fingers numb,
through dark drives to work
and dark drives home
watching the calendar
mental red X's.
waited, still longer,
through inaccessible ice windshields
sputtering engines
dirty sidewalk slush
each day harder to get out of bed.
Waited, because
it is this that means sanity;
this that separates the blues or the blahs
from still darker evils;
this hope, this knowledge
a seed still in us somewhere
that even while dormant, dimly remembers
how it feels to thaw.
Dimly knows
it will always get better, eventually.
She waited,
eyes watering in the wind,
but open.
It came,
one day with a crocus,
one morning without headlights,
with the shedding of layers,
with the blinking at sudden brightness;
dazzled.
It came,
and like every year
she breathed in that relief of green
re-learned her miracles
and remembered to have faith
all over again.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
Nice poem. I both subscribe to and enjoy your Smelly Lezzer cannon of work, but wonder if you could perhaps post something from your lesser -known 'Aids Mop' period?