FictionPosted: March 20, 2014 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: America, family, Fiction, life, Lisel Mueller, love, Omaha, Poetry, Spring, yoga 2 Comments
Going south, we watched spring
unroll like a proper novel:
forsythia, dogwood, rose;
bare trees, green lace, full shade.
By the time we arrived in Georgia
the complications were deep.
When we drove back, we read
from back to front. Maroon went wild,
went scarlet, burned once more
and then withdrew into pink,
tentative, still in bud.
I thought if only we could go on
and meet again, shy as strangers.
Beautiful post for a beautiful first day of spring! Thanks for sharing.
I don’t think we could have asked for a more pleasant first day of spring 🙂