The Spring

Ah but it’s lovely

the Spring

and the way it gradually softens you up.

Breaks down the way you fortified yourself

or thought you had.

Nothing huge at first.

Might be bare feet or

an nightgown, early morning,

that is not bound as tight

mid Winter

across the girth.

Spring is light, isn’t it

even in rain,

days of grey

there is still

something to anticipate

like a dainty step

or an opening

up of a pile of debris

thought frozen until now.

Spring is another chance

new vegetables

bird song, old neighbour

with his barrow heavy

with new black soil

and for me too

when a glance

in the mirror

becomes a second guess.

Spring is maybe the way

it used to be but better

although

maybe you can’t remember

how all that dug up soil

is

like a mind randomly

tossed about into drills

regimented from the disarray

of winter

where then a chance comes

to allow a dally

a lazy wallow in the world

without expectation

that turns

into a fertile

scape void of hunger

and almost if

dared a terrain

rich

with possibilities.