AND NOW FOR SOME SOUL FOOD SPRING POETRY
Early
Spring
By Alison Towle Moore
With thanks to Ada Limon.
When those teasing days of sunshine flee
and winter settles back with its dark sleet
and cruel politics,
it isn’t the cherry trees with their
phantasms of pink tutus or the plums’
white blossoms strewn like ticker tape…
No, it’s the quiet and tiny unfurling
of reddish buds reaching skyward
from the Japanese maple,
the subtle greening of the Persian Ironwood
planted late in the fall;
and tiny buds appearing on the
fuchsia
feared dead after the long freeze…
Those glimmers, along with the song sparrow who
trills from the garage every morning,
the daily chatter of purple finches and
visits from the trio of crows…
These quieter joys feel like promises kept;
the world a good and trustworthy place.
Even now. Especially now.
