Post title
It’s the daily-ness that wore me down,
the over and over and on and on.
Winter thudding along, mashing thoughts of spring into the muddy creases,
Waiting, waiting. Will nothing ever happen?
I am frozen like fingers on a frost-bit doorknob.
No don’t try to open it, I’ve tried.
Oh, it’s the daily-ness of winter, where is spring?
How can I stop this brain-dead dialog,
conjuring up a wrinkled copy of last year’s anticipation?
Can't I give it one more try?
Force out one more inaudible day?
Waiting on the curbs and playgrounds,
watching through the doors and windows,
trudging after draining, unmet expectations
along that repetitious path into another afternoon.
I saw the yellow first and then that somehow different green:
transparent, sun-lit, red-tipped, replicating life.
Sun slanting and shifting through the afternoon showers,
breaking into rainbows.
the over and over and on and on.
Winter thudding along, mashing thoughts of spring into the muddy creases,
Waiting, waiting. Will nothing ever happen?
I am frozen like fingers on a frost-bit doorknob.
No don’t try to open it, I’ve tried.
Oh, it’s the daily-ness of winter, where is spring?
How can I stop this brain-dead dialog,
conjuring up a wrinkled copy of last year’s anticipation?
Can't I give it one more try?
Force out one more inaudible day?
Waiting on the curbs and playgrounds,
watching through the doors and windows,
trudging after draining, unmet expectations
along that repetitious path into another afternoon.
I saw the yellow first and then that somehow different green:
transparent, sun-lit, red-tipped, replicating life.
Sun slanting and shifting through the afternoon showers,
breaking into rainbows.
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| English Conservancy Garden, April 2013 |
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| English Conservancy Gardens, Central Park April 2013 |
Comments
"conjuring up a wrinkled copy of last year’s anticipation?"
… wonderful!
m