when winter’s cold fingers, at last, uncurl
and spring finally comes, it comes:
buds exploding open in the weak April sun
the sharp air softening,
so many things changing at once
it’s impossible to mark them all
the sky deepening to cobalt at noon,
the raptors circling on warm currents,
the yellowing of goldfinches
the great unfolding–
tulips, magnolia, cherry blossoms
vivid confetti decorating my yard
my own spring is long gone
but I don’t envy this newness
I dread its brevity, its fragility
the threat of spring’s early demise
is my biggest fear
calamity looms – the kind of threat
that destroys the sparrow’s newly made nest
that dries the nectarines on the branch
a dark storm could thrust us
too soon into summer,
with its heavy, saturated days
making short work of this bright innocence