rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Chilled

We have escaped snow so far, but it's a very cold night and we could still get some. This is no way for spring to begin. Returning from the store I tracked a soggy, dead oak leaf into the house. I only found it later when I saw it stuck to the kitchen linoleum, looking like a flattened tree frog. There haven't been tree frogs here for years, but the reminder of them saddened me. The whole day was sad already. Here's the equinox, and it still feels like February.




Sunday Verse


Late February


by Ted Kooser


The first warm day,
and by mid-afternoon
the snow is no more
than a washing
strewn over the yards,
the bedding rolled in knots
and leaking water,
the white shirts lying
under the evergreens.
Through the heaviest drifts
rise autumn’s fallen
bicycles, small carnivals
of paint and chrome,
the Octopus
and Tilt-A-Whirl
beginning to turn
in the sun. Now children,
stiffened by winter
and dressed, somehow,
like old men, mutter
and bend to the work
of building dams.
But such a spring is brief;
by five o’clock
the chill of sundown,
darkness, the blue TVs
flashing like storms
in the picture windows,
the yards gone gray,
the wet dogs barking
at nothing. Far off
across the cornfields
staked for streets and sewers,
the body of a farmer
missing since fall
will show up
in his garden tomorrow,
as unexpected
as a tulip.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments