\Spring creeps in so uncertainly
An April Fool’s kind of a joke-
Rain and wind and clammy cold
Conspire to give the lie to the old saw
About April showers and May flowers.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the city melts.
Tattletale gray snow banks like soiled bedding
Begin to shrink, leaving clots of detritus.
Winter, that cold old litterbug
Has lost his grip to longer, warmer days.
Springtime comes to the city
As the sheets of ice in the parking lots
Turn into small dirty lakes as the pavement
Slowly begins to appear. Who could guess
Spring would show up clothed in black asphalt?
Is it even worth celebrating? I ask myself.
Is spring all that different? It seems not,
I muse, turning off the furnace, and removing
One layer of clothing, grumbling that spring
Is not as I remember it those many years ago.
Old men always muse to imperfect memory.
Spring is as it was, has always been,
Will ever be. Nothing ever changes, I think.
Winter grips harder and longer with the years
Too many springs have come, not enough are left.
-April 6, 2011