3.12.13 How Do I Find My Self Surprised

How do I find myself surprised

the winter snow completely banished

from some errant morning rain

It's March 12 for God’s sake

Even New Englanders

should not be stunned

Here, I am mourning the loss

of pale intricate bark contrasted

with deep fervent snow

This season’s proprio motu

now straggled down ravines

lain cross the overgrown ridge

Winter grasses, rich yellow/brown , lie

fast asleep within their toil

Analogous  rilant ochres

arrested from last summer's efforts

In all of these, I remain

chastened, soothed

But now here we go again, irrevocable wakening

Iris by the bleak back steps

heedless, murmuring as it stretches

the Maple  up against the north wall

gestating rich red blossom bouquets

Lungwort clamoring by the

restive  Rugosa

As the avians arrive, daily, entire families

Cults of Robins, countries of Starling, the

gaiety  of reunion, the

Beaked laughter while searching out

Their sustenance, then urgent coupling

Even in New York City last weekend

The snowdrop blossoms irreverently

burst forth from packed city soil

the crowds rolling last snowballs, then heard

racing by, swift, on bicycle and rollerblade

joyfully aghast at incoming trickling Spring

Tell the Red Wing

engaged in age old call and refrain

Give notice to the Blue Heron

elegantly returning to stirring river banks

Whisper to the Beech buds

unfurling bravely

even now, as we speak

Our smallest planet, spinning

Small as a small nothing, we, amongst

 billions of galaxies ; The whole season

shuddering itself along, Winter once again

giving way to

enunciant, estrus-ient Spring