I am not ready.
my rested bones sigh
at chores ahead.
the gardens demand attention—
feed me, sow me, weed me, turn me.
when spring awakes,
my sleek hair takes on
another life—frizz.
I grumble as the
tidy hoses unfurl,
and brace as I haul
against their weight.
when spring awakes,
I wonder
shall I hoe, plant, harvest, outwit
insects?
or shall I give in to another.
Copyright © 2012 by Diane LaSauce All Rights Reserved
Yes, Ms. D, I could not agree with you more. In light of the six inch snowfall we received a week ago Monday, spring seems to have descended upon us all too abruptly this year. Although the surrounding flowers and blossoms are lovely, my internal clock craves time for gradual transitioning.
LikeLike
This is just lovely. I’m almost sitting there with you, wondering what to do first … but they’re not my options for now. So I’ll have to just watch you!
jeanne
LikeLike
Beautiful, so beautiful dear Diane, seems that we both felt the same touches of spring… in different places… This is the richness actually, everything theoretically seems the same yet actually the differences come from our experiences… Thank you.
I love your poetic spirit in your words and also I loved your photograph too. Have a nice weekend, with my love, nia
LikeLike
amen!
LikeLike