The Cloud

I thought you were sweeping away the fringe
Of the weary and wind-tattered grass
I thought at last I could sense a tinge
Of warmth as I heard you pass
I thought, as I gazed on the sullen shield
Of winter’s weary palm
…as I gazed on the patient wood-lot and field
I thought that spring had come

I thought, you were kind as you looked upon
The weathered and bleak terrain
Of pastureland and silent lawn
Waiting to be green again
As I heard your breath, like a restless sigh
Moan across hill and hollow
I was sure, as I felt you hurry by
That spring was sure to follow…

I thought you agreed the time had come
For bitter feuds to cease
At last, at last you would succumb
To laughter, love and peace
But, as you drew across the sun
You simply shook your head
And told me spring would surely come
…but, my dear, not yet

Janet~

Yesterday as I was out running
I was sure we were on the edge
Of the next stage of spring…
…a few hours later I changed my mind!