It shimmers ahead
in the midafternoon light
and the warmth and the sky and the sun
and the grass's finally green again
but the trees are still bare--
It shimmers, distant, but there.

Feet on the pedals,
three fingers on brake,
and already there's breeze and the catch
of warm breath in throat, and push off
and wobble a bit as it starts--
then gliding, and blurry and sharp.

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I sit looking sad,
Why should I be glad?
Spring is out there,
But I cannot share.

The bed is unmade,
Clothes left to fade.
The birds sing a tune,
But I clean my room.

Pull back the curtain,
I’ll be done, I’m certain.
The flowers are blooming
And I’m back to fuming

Why does this cleaning take so long?
Why does everything seem to do wrong?
The Spring outside,
Will peacefully reside.

Blissfully blooming beauty sprung
Budding, arraying colours gay
Pussy willows, daisies, daffodils
Mingling fresh breath of trees

Cheerfully notes of birds fly
Amongst Mary’s eyes blue sky
Light pouring forth in great measure
In grass yellow-green with colour

Amongst the basin of watery blue
Wispy white brushstrokes flee
Droplets, sparkling, pearly rain
The whistling of wind whirls round

Blustering, fluttering shadows
Swaying, tilting boughs
Bending, leaning blades
Flying, swirling leaves

though winter had almost gone
and the last remnant of frost
had just fallen from
the leaf
buds.

In the moonlight,
the branches of the old,
country orchard gleamed
like pale limbs, as if waiting
to waltz slowly
through the fields.

A northerly wind
roused the grass
that played beneath
and between
the dancers.

Flower buds,
white as the moonlight,
pink as the dawn,
had just begun to burst,
inviting hosts of bees
to alight on their branches.