Cold Spring

A poem, from 2007, this season of winter-spring keeps reminding me of. Ice crackly and thick on the tops on my early walk, and I'm sitting here with the heating on, the door a crack open, the sun warming me through the window... and suddenly the sun has gone, and I must close the door.

An earlier draft featured the line
confusion of climates
which I'm rather sorry to find gone now I revisit the piece.
Anyhoo.....

March 14^th

White blossom emerges like snow oozing

from dark branches. Spring wades out of Winter,

the warmth held inside a cold envelope.

A tractor gets to work

and my mother has the painters in.

But this morning the pale dust of snow again

as I set out early in heavy coat and muffler.