I have never done poetry, at least rhyming poetry. I think it would end up, “I sat on the couch and then said ouch cause a lego was there and got me in the derier.(spelling?!)” You see why. But every time I read a Dr. Seuss book and my mind starts wanting to rhyme and I think of funny rhyming things. Well, I never write them down. I don’t know why. I am not Dr. Seuss, nor will I ever try to be Dr. Suess! But it is a gorgeous Spring morning in February. In Iowa. And this is a miracle and needs some poetry/prose attempt, so here I go.
Spring is the magic when you see the sprout of a bulb
A solitary bulb that you planted in October, an Indian summer gift, with your four year old.
His chubby and grubby hands grasping for bulbs saying,
“Pointy side up, right Mawmaw?”
And you say yes with a smile on your face and in your heart.
And when he says, “I am a good gardener.”
And you hope, you hope that these bulbs will be
Will they be allowed to grow? Will they make it through the snow?
The cocoon of rotten leaves blanketing them in warmth.
The frozen ground nestling them in safety.
Just to bring life to the earth after a cruel winter
A winter that wasn’t winter. Not in Iowa anyway.
When it is February 28 and you can see a bulb.
Because it should still be blustering, blowing, snowing.
And tomorrow it will
Because this is Iowa.
But this glimpse of Spring opens your heart to possibilities.
It’s a reminder of what can be, what will be!
It’s a reminder that all winters end and that spring is the beginning
The beginning of something new and fresh
The beginning of bird’s nests, nighttime walks before bed
And spring storms.
The beginning of cool mornings and perfect afternoons.
The beginning of spring fever when school seems like a cruel prison.
And while you might be in a winter season in your life
A death of a parent, a loss of a job, a baby that wasn’t
Or a plan that didn’t happen,
Spring can open your heart.
It can remind you that even if you have winter in spring
You can still find the beauty in the winter
Especially in the spring.
Our open door because it’s light and 47 degrees. I am dying to paint it yellow.