A Rich Feast

The twisted spears of tulips are inches up

already, the neighbors out walking dogs

or chatting at the foot of their driveways!

Spring is really coming, even if the almanac

says one more storm is due before it does.

It might be rain, it might be hail, it might be

frogs in these apocalyptic times, but for now

we are all reveling in the new sunshine

and leisurely calm of the day, how it rolls

along like a ball of wool unspooling

onto the floor of our weary minds.

There’s no winding this back up now.

Everything that’s happened has still

happened: pandemic, war, truck convoy,

insurrection, hunger, grief, racism, loss.

But today the woe is like tattered yarn

tangled in the grass, just something to be

raked up like last year’s leaves, twigs,

and sweetgum balls before the first mow.

Yes, that’s it, we’ve got work to do

and we’ll do it, but right now it feels

like we just had a holiday dinner at two

and have to walk it off in the sunshine

at three and say hello again to everyone,

and remember how to be human, decent,

and full of joy.

— Babs