Reluctant Spring

A few years back I wrote this poem and I guess it happens most years for me.

RELUCTANT SPRING

Instinct told me to take myself away

and look at all the unwrapped gifts

that nature has to offer.

It isn't what I thought it would be.

The snow is still too deep,

a fresh, thick blanket arrived yesterday,

deposited despite swirling winds,

despite my resentful heart longing for shoots and sprouts,

despite the calendar's declaration

a few days ago, that it's Spring.

"Hibernation ends today!" Oh, yeah?

Just yesterday

I'd surrendered to my skepticism:

One more snowstorm, wrapped around my presents.

I'd steeled myself to a long wait, and then, in a cozy bar,

I let go of my defenses.

No! I declared: I will have Spring's delights.

It's time.  I feel it:

Time for renewing our wavering faith in life, in spirit,

through the joy of botanical beauty.

But, it wasn't what I thought it would be,

once I surrendered to the hope.

I walked on icy paths, among white blanketed mounds.

Underneath I knew, were precious granules of frozen fertile dirt.

Where will I be when botanical delight

Really does open up my heart,

infusing my body and soul with hope and promise,

feeding my senses with reverence for this mystery?

I walk with cautious anticipation...

with my waiting heart,

my own precious spirit of life holding on,

seeking its earthly companions.

Barbara Moffett

March 24, 2011