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| Illustration by Greg Newbold, used by permission. www.gregnewbold.blogspot.com |
The chickens say she’s here
Although the morning creaks
With cold
And snow below my feet is arctic
In it’s sound
The way it squeaks beneath
Each step and makes
Your bones go
Shivery
And hunker further down
And winter’s slipping grip is iron like
And up to now
Has kept the hen house
Stingy
And all the Maples stand in helpless
Inability to thaw
Their toes
And the Old Man
Doesn’t care that he’s put sugaring
On hold
While March’s sputtering engine just
Blows cold and she’s
Dismayed
At her apparent
Insignificance
But the chickens know she’s come
And in good faith this frigid morning
They have laid
Four small warm suns
A simple
But celestial offering
Four small warm promises
Of Spring
www.gregnewbold.blogspot.com
Sara Mathews February 2016
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