I love the smell of Poetry Thursday in the morning.
Happy New Year, everyone! I'm still getting caught up from the holidays so I'm posting an old poem today. Hope to write something new tomorrow. No Gumball Poetry this week, just a request to the gumball gods that the gumball machines make it to the East Coast in the near future.
Miseries of Spring
Before you knew it
Spring was gone,
fleeced, frisked, filched,
seized, snatched, poached,
pilfered, hijacked, shanghaied,
plucked like tulips after a hard night’s frost.
Those first few days when the temperature soars
above 80 degrees, then chilly air sweeps in,
she fools us every year.
The tree buds bloom and shed
in a matter of hours, leaving a thick coating
of pollen on your windshield. Inside,
ants take over the kitchen like tourists on vacation.
If it’s not Spring, then what is it
stuck deep in your hair like a pine needle?
A rainy day and open toed shoes
remind you that it’s not quite June.
Yet, you smile as cool water caresses your toes,
traipsing through still puddles on the walkway.
She’s a long-lost friend who comes when she comes,
you don’t care why or from where, you just wonder
what took her so long.