My Late Spring
My winter lasted forty years
and for most of that season
it was a deep freeze.
Oh, there was the usual
January thaw when we’d study
a poetry unit in elementary school
or hints of spring
when I’d teach poetry
to my students
or read poems
to my own two children.
Once, I found the coolest
book of poetry
at the library and remember
reading “The Frozen Logger”
to my logger husband.
He actually listened
and smiled afterwards.
But it took all those years
for the sap in the maple
tree of my life to start flowing
with words. My god,
my roots tingled! Poems
popped out like leaves.
Today is April 25, 2008
just one month
on the calendar
into this season
but twenty years
into my own spring
and I’ve already written
thousands of gallons
of sweet maple syrup.
9 comments:
i too went thru decades of dry spells,, and i am just glad that poetry doesn't ferment!!
Love the tiers and textures in your poem.
Beautiful take on a late spring.
Gemma
Great metaphor; let's hope spring sticks around a while.
Please keep the sweet maple syrup flowing :)
wow! i think this is one of your best. just terrific.
I am delighted that spring has finally arrived. Thanks for sharing your beautiful words. I look forward to reading more.
A lovely look at Spring come late!
nice tale on the prompt.
Great job and thanks for not giving up! :)
Post a Comment