Today
The first day of spring
Already Sycamore births her
Small green leaves
That will evolve into larger leaves
Adorning her branches
Until far into fall
Then drop one by one
Slowly to the ground
I cannot remember the song
From the very first robin
Singing its arrival
Early in an Illinois spring
Its song brought me joy
After a long cold snowy
Winter
California springs brought
Mockingbirds
Their songs ringing out
Through the Myoporum
Over the canyons
Then eerily at midnight
Into the early hours
Of the new day
I’d hear their trills
I miss that first robin
I miss the mockingbirds
Heralding spring for me
The air around me feels silent
Save the lone mourning dove
Who calls calls calls
No one answers
Then
Mating season for crows
Arrives
Their squawking voices
A different harbinger
That spring is here
I tell myself
They too
Are of the natural world
For I am given
Love everyone everything
Yes
Even noisy crows
Such a lovely reminder that we have no control over nature! The sweet nostalgia of seasons past, bringing a glorious kind of melancholy I rarely wish to touch. But with these poems, the depth of feeling is often a welcome reprieve from other more troubling emotions that erupt with the daily news cycle one cannot totally avoid.
For those who received an email with faulty formatting, you can blame Word Press; they made an update without offering users a choice to opt out. I apologize.
Thank you for continuing to support Wendy’s work. She is a gift, is she not?
Dina McQueen
blog administrator
Yes she is a gift Dina. And yes even the crows deserve love. What an inspirational piece in a world devoid of love. The crow reminded me of the supposed caravans that are coming here to seek asylum. Nobody wants, but the need and deserve love. Thank. You for posting!!!
What a compassionate and creative analogy you made, Rob! You are a wonderful supporter of Mom’s poetry, and I know how much she appreciates your feedback. Much love to you!