Some think our treasure lies in killing
And yet we must still love the spring
Even if it can’t fulfill
Its promises even if only a few
Of its ripe thoughts last until fall
We see what it intended after all
What it had in store for us
And really meant to do
Though only a little remains
Of the things it started with
When lonely it set out
From its virgin birth
3 comments:
i don't think you believe this poem, do you, peter? our treasure, in fact, lies in our choice not to kill.
and spring in fact does fulfill its promises. only we misinterpret them sometimes...
i imagine it is a difficult day down there.
up here i chose to run in the country. there was a blue jay who did such a stunning job being a blue jay!
Thanks, as always, Erin. I made a change to clarify my meaning in that line. I think spring does sometimes disappoint, but 'even if' we still understand its true vision, which is to return and try again.
A run on snowy roads, or is the spring coming and going?
a run on snow and ice for the most part. although there were patches of pavement to be seen when i got back into town. that was terribly exciting! (winter will be months longer, if it manages to correct itself. it's been unseasonably warm the last couple weeks.)
(i thought to play devil's advocate to the sadness i sensed. perhaps i might have been gentler. i hope all is well, peter.)
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