Spring
Limp with longing
weak from coughing
in the grip of my spring cold
I am undone by a downy new leaf
the painted trillium
a patch of violets.
Aching with desire
stung by the rich smell of cow manure
I dissolve into a reverie of wants.
Unraveled by the dappled light
softened by the mourning dove’s coo
sustained by the robin’s trill
I plod home and
admire the brave tulip
displaying its dark center.
– Kathleen Beaubien
