ah, spring

I sat on the porch last night in the blue glow of sagging snow

lit by a full moon.

And again today, in fleece pajama pants and that pale blue

sweater my husband is probably tired of seeing me in,

drinking my 3rd cup of coffee and listening to the world drip

and the birds whistle hopefully

and the wind crackle through old dead leaves still clinging

to the trees in my front yard.

I’m reminded of some ancient joy —

we’ve made it through another winter! —

as if I had stores of dried meats and root vegetables

in the cellar, and had stockpiled enough wood to keep

the stove burning through long dark cold nights,

rather than the cartons of wine and

the 3-month supply of pasta and olive oil in our basement,

and the stream of natural gas which runs the furnace, courtesy

of Consumers Power and DTE.

Now I see points of early flowers poking from the dirt

and the world is thinking about becoming light again

with the first chimes of my alarm;

one can almost smell the warm moist air of spring.

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