Sherry Chandler » Bluebells
Bluebells
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Stoner Creek
The forecast calls for gusty winds and rain,
creeks may overflow low-lying roads
but birds don’t care, spring is their refrain.
Sex, sex, sex the mockingbird’s song explodes.
Mine, mine, mine the black-capped chickadee
replies, swaying in the leafless cherry tree.
The bluebells, too, explode out of the earth,
purple not gold is this nature’s first green.
The trillium crowns for greeny-purple birth,
the peony’s red, the trout lily’s obscene.
Enthusiasm tops finesse and taste
as Terra contemplates her thickening waist.
Exuberance
and not romance
must lead the dance
in the circumstance.l
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1 Comment
1. Tommy replies at 27th March 2008, 8:50 am :
Brrrr. Those bluebells look cold!
There was a small tabby with a long-haired tail hanging around our door last night. Isabel thinks she was rubbing on things and rolling on the ground like she was coming into heat.
Our own little darling is not feeling the call of spring, so much as the push of cabin fever and the allure of the catnip mouse. Unfortunately, the devil weed makes her paranoid ….
So spring is ycomen in, loudly sing hurrah!
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