Imminent

Of course, it's raining today, but I could have sworn I saw the sun on Friday. Crocuses are blooming, trees are budding, and May is coming faster than I could have imagined.


Imminent

Old, grey-eyed winter gives a final gasp
and clutches at the bony-fingered trees,
bewildered and bedeviled by the grasp
of blossoms bearing upwards to the bees;

high overhead, the clouds dispense a spell,
a curtain call of keen and seething snow,
but feebly, for they notice, all too well,
the shoots and runners readying to grow.

And how the weathermen will groan and gripe
and warn us of the ever-coming chill,
as arctic winds diminish, over-ripe
and withered. Let the weather as it will,

but, as for me, a warble on the wing
assures me of the certainty of spring.