I cast my faith on daffodils –
on the steadfastness of green
and promises of gold
I can believe in the movements
of worms, shaking up earth
beyond visible proof
I accept the testimony of buds
before their exhalations –
modest currency of Spring
I can discern a mystery in dirt
and a truth rests in my spine –
that some bright morning
the burgeoning will arrive
© Sarah Whiteley
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.
the small-birds have finally
found the window feeder
and the dogs are enthralled
with their sudden proximity
we are well, though feeling
the spring in our bones –
that gentle eruption debuts
a new brand of restlessness
the boards of the porch have been
too damp for comfortable reading,
and coffee for now is confined
beneath the mossy awning
but sweet and peppery
the season’s trees tease
the beginnings of green –
one promise kept, at least,
among so many hundreds dropped
these are days of small news,
buds of flowery hearsay – not much
here to report except the hummingbirds
are damp-winged and bright
among the new leaves of the maple
© Sarah Whiteley
a slow chain of greening begins beneath –
unseen, sneaking through damp earths
a stealthy pushing aside of rocks
and winter for worm-paths and pale roots
sending tentative inquiries further afield
spring seeks surfaces in the same way
the yellow-beaked robins break the dirt –
in the same manner leaf-buds seek an April sun –
an abiding search for choicer feasts
and a respite from waiting, bare-branched,
until we can say with certainty spring has begun
© Sarah Whiteley
I hope you’ll forgive my absence lately – I’m smack dab in the middle of the spring tax deadlines and it doesn’t leave much space for reading or writing or cloud gathering. Of course the head cold isn’t helping any of that either.
But be well, and I’ll catch up when I can!
ebbtide 