Watching and Waiting
In South Mississippi, we can hardly wait for our two or three weeks of winter to be over. I’ve been watching carefully for any signs of spring. Watching for a pot that will never boil, as the old saying goes, has nothing on watching for a bud to bloom. To distract myself, I decided to have some fun as I try my hand at a bit of flamenco.
Outwaiting a Bulb
I’m weary of sweaters,
bone tired of being cold.
Yet surprise awaits
that February day –
a bud in yellow bold.
Anticipation soars
bulged beside the sidewalk.
Yet I wait for days,
that bud remaining closed,
forever in a balk.
Snowflakes
The sidewalk’s other side
blossoms out with snowflakes,
swinging merrily,
without any waiting –
sun and time – all it takes.
Bluets
Other spring foretokens
beneath my walking feet,
where I’m not watching,
flowering bluet clusters
bring memories that are sweet.
Wait Over
Surprise comes one morning.
The bud has burst apart.
Yellow trumpet glows .
A gorgeous daffodil
was hidden in its heart!
Moral?
Aesop had a moral
where’er his tale might wend.
Could I find one here?
Pay attention to now.
Spot the joy before the end.