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If Winter Comes (And Keeps On Coming), Can Spring Be (That) Far Behind?

March 4, 2009

Just returned from the Midwest, where we went to check on the house that’s “denuded” of most of its furniture, but still not sold. There we encountered my favorite: winter in full force, those mind (and body) numbingly, frigid temperatures and snow, the very reasons N and I left the area. The promise of spring seemed far, far away but, thankfully, back on our island it’s a very different story.

We returned to balmy (it’s all relative) temps, with sunshine and blue sky (it’s reflected in the water), which engenders a distinctly more  positive feeling about the world.

For me, hope and thoughts of poetry spring to mind more at this time of year than at any other………

The Enkindled Spring by D. H. Lawrence, 1916

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.


Spring is like a perhaps hand by E. E. Cummings


Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere) arranging
a window,into which people look (while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things, while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there) and

without breaking anything.
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