spring

the dogwood holds out its buds
in tight-fingered spring,
weeks after the juncos began to sing
and the robins to trill their territories

even the cherry trees twisted with age
have thrust their changing into the air,
as though they feel the need to prove
they can still and burst themselves
pink with the effort

all this for clutches of crows’ eggs
and creamy crowned daffodils
nodding delight in spite
of a fresh invasion of snails

© Sarah Whiteley

It is done. I officially finished with the deadline madness at about half past eight tonight. There will be plenty of clean-up to handle, but the hard part is over and done. I can’t say I handled myself with complete grace in the last few hours and I’m a little ruffled in spirit right now, but I think a good solid weekend and returning to a normal workflow will set things right.

Anyway, I am so happy to be back and in a place where I can start writing more regularly and visiting all those lovely writerly corners of the web that I’ve missed during the past several weeks. (You know who you are!)