Saturday, June 12, 2010


spring has not sprung but slid in like a night crawler
I smell her in the garden but cannot see her in the sky
the faint tweet of nesting bushtits should be a sign they are no longer flocking
but pairing up like high schoolers at the dance
unlike so many springs past which fell into my lap like a token, fully formed and redolent,
this one has slipped, tripped and false started
on a cold morning I discovered the first origami sheaves of the hostas unfurling their sleeves
like geisha undressing
then the fiddle heads first brown and nubby then pale green and hopeful unwound their tendrils into the late winter
and I thought really? so soon? its too gray outside still
how will you breathe in all this heavy sodden air?
but the waxy new leaves of the lemon trees reach up
cradling the tiny flowers whose perfume, mingling with the wisteria
makes for a heady flower bomb one cannot bottle or buy
so instead of a full blown ecstasy of scent sight and sound
no grand opening no season premiere the red carpet was not rolled out for this years vernal debut
perhaps it is natures recession
no grand expense paid no bonuses doled out
if you want to enjoy this spring you must seek her out in the shadows
turn under the stones and find the moss stand in her midst and breathe her in
and feel the nuance that has escaped our oh so brash and expectant selves
I have turned into a consumer american with no patience and no work ethic
I want it all at once handed straight to me
this spring is teaching me that some things take time and must be born slowly
it is a metaphor of my own painful and lengthy birth
I came into this world tentatively and did not fully embrace it all at once
I needed time to adjust to the new light
the new scent the new air
so I will embrace this new child called spring
coax her out slowly into the light
take her in slowly one new miracle at a time
I will take my time getting to know this shy and complicated girl

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