Glee and wanting still to go
and slip and slide
and play on winter’s snow,
nearly blinding white
in late spring sun’s
high, pounding light,

getting last licks in
gliding, sailing over frozen stuff
that stands piled high and bravely,
but, even in its noble efforts
in the end,
still turns to slush,

which further melts,
so it can water us quite deep,

and we can only hope
it will be deep enough
to fill our deepest,
long neglected needs
after five years’ cracked, dry sod
and all our scrimping, saving up
and praying
for more liquid moisture,
which Orion’s mighty sword
could not prick more to flow. . .

Now it’s time to make way for
the coming heat and warmth
and growth,
and the stunning spectacle
of summer’s mighty, higher glow,

when days stretch long
and dipper stars
scoop any water that is ours
to grow our food,
and fuel our work and play and lives
which we will channel as we may,

as sun and moon
loom large in size
illuminating sundry flowers, fruits,
and bees with many popping eyes,
and birds and creatures of all kinds,
that, even in the light of day,
can sometimes catch us by surprise.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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