A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
All winter long I received
emails offering bulbs and seeds
from a place named Eden.
And then it happened. False spring.
Crocus broke through dead leaves.
Small trees were reported in bloom.
Children celebrated in the streets
as after a war. Of course,
it ended and, impoverished souls,
we went back to living our lives of winter.
The birds sang, less with elan,
ramped-up on ennui. Temporarily, it returned.
Furry red buds in Japanese maples.
Perfect, brilliant crocus in cryptic patterns.
We opened the windows for the cats.
It as though the natural world were saying,
No matter what, we can enter your house
and do what we want.
Copyright 2017 Leonard Gontarek