The tiny blossoms of the wild plum

Are set to life by the dark grays of the forest –

Not yet ready to leaf- am I?

The white merganser is

As he tucks into the current

Gone – until popping up

Like a jack in the box- thrilled

By these small surprises

The insistance- to join in the fun

Of the crab apple in full bloom

PINK- PINK PINK- we will be renewed

Whether we are ready or not.

My mother savored the melancholy

Of early spring-reciting a painful poem

By Edna St Vincent Millay( called Spring)

Just going to show-

That there is pleasure to be found

In our moody questioning – of all this joy.

Tra- La