Friday, March 31, 2017
First of April
The chilly rain has not drowned my love,
Which pushes up through the crystals of ice,
The clay, leaf mulch, winter’s debris,
Pushes up toward the great warmth
And light of your love
And life . . .
And presents you
With a strange bouquet—fragrant daffodils,
Snowdrops, crocus, forsythia . . .
And yes, another, rougher bouquet,
Survivors that we love for their very toughness,
Fidelity in the harshest environments—
Skunk cabbage, the fungi, the unloved and unhandsome.
So there! A bouquet for you,
From my hands and my strange heart,
As beautiful and clashing
As the life emerging this early spring.
Bob Coughlin / March 31, 2017