Waiting for the Spring
I
March is preparing to pull down the
dull blanket of February’s winter.
Crocuses are blooming early as bulbs
push through soil and mulch in the
confusion of warm days and bone ice
nights.
A blue heron, solitary slides by in
darkening winter sky, crows caw at
chattering starlings as a crew of
sparrows sing, joined by the first
Robin and Cardinal to arrive.
Squirrel rests upon top of telephone
pole, searches for the sun covered by
blackening clouds, returns to drey.
II
March at war with itself. Thirty-degree
temperature drops daily, warm, cold
warm, cold and then it exerts its muscle.
Full throated powerful gusts of wind
charge down avenue, bending, twisting
of tree limbs. Crowns of trees bent over.
As moon descends upon the avenue
howls, cries of the hangers on of
the afterlife swept by March wind.
Agony of unmentionable sounds
even in the pause, rumbling, charging
down the avenue. The spirits empty
hands unable to hold, swirling until
there is a quiet, they are gone.
Bionote
g emil reutter is a writer of poems and stories and can be found at: https://gereutter.wordpress.com
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