Cancer/Writing Journal #95

 


Sodden Spring


So long to wait

And not really worth it.


A study in dismal white,

Infertile brown, dispirited gray


A vast, monotonous variety

Of decayed artifacts in a place

Where life once was 

And that,  just a shadowed memory.


The detritus of autumn.

Inert, nothing to bring renewal 

Anywhere in sight


What was

 Is

 And will be. 


Dust or mud, mud or dust

Pick one or the other 

But nothing else.


I saw a robin this morning,

Heading north, I think.



Here is a poem I wrote for my writing group. Things were still prettty dismal at the time of the writers meeting. Since then, it has gotten nice. Jean and I basked in the sun yesterday and poked around in our gardens and found things starting to come up. Residual snow is going fast. The poem is starting to not work which is just fine with me.

Comments

  1. Jan CApril 12, 2023 at 1:39 PM

    This poem perfectly captures that time of year, though. But yes, glad to be moving past that!

    ReplyDelete

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