Thursday, March 23, 2023

When Earth Starts Dancing With First Fragrances of Spring...


This poem began the other day as I, like 'last year's pup' also sought the southside deck...

...delighting in first sightings of robins, and song-sparrow warbles and killdeer cries

Sometimes when earth starts dancing with first fragrances of spring
When robin song romances winter’s wearied weathering
It rouses frames filled with fond scenes of days, long left behind
With ways that will not change in spite of change’s ceaseless grind

It brings to mind pictures of school girls, hopscotch, skipping ropes
Of farmers whistling, with fresh bounce in steps of buoyed hopes
Of mothers cooking suppers for fresh-air keened appetites
Of pussy-willow ‘kittens’ and brook-song’s restored delights

Of puddles where paper boats sail, where little children ‘fish’
Of pebble-pennies lobbed, kerplunk, laden with Dreamer’s wish
And the wild rush of freedom as temperatures start to soar
And coats are tossed and cheeks are flushed with sun-kisses once more

Of last year's pup sprawled on south-facing deck for mid-day snooze
Of fantasies of feet freed from time-thieving socks and shoes 
Of picnic-baskets trundled to a perfect place to sit
On blankets spread a world away, as far as rules permit 

Of blue, blue rafters crowning girths, heady with birth, bud-rife
Of laughter, rising, falling on the carousel of life
Of scents, woodsy and pungent, kindling an impatient urge
For violet and forget-me-not and dandelion splurge

Or, countryside at sunset, swaddled in gold-embossed scrims 
Where silky dust-scarves waft from furrows stoked with planting hymns
Or the certain return of frantic, plaintive killdeer's cry 
Or whack! as baseball bats find sweet spots and outfielders fly  

Or muddy boots, where pastures were not wander-ready yet
Or bucket-garnished maple-trees snaring sap-pirouette
Or new-found loot, like sparkly stones, or shells where oceans roar
Or pop bottles to cash in for treats from the corner store

...and willow-wand's first feathered fronds before its sighing sheen
And prickly perches on creeks banks before stiff thatch turns green
Where ragged cattail-paupers wait for warmer streams to wade
But cheered by the shrill ripple of spring-peeper serenade 

I’m glad, when earth starts dancing with first fragrances of spring
I realize for all the changes life is bound to bring
The keepsakes that I treasure no modern progress can claim
Because children and nature are still very much the same

© Janet Martin

(a few tidbits from last year...because we're not quite there yet)


  1. As an anonymous poet, I read a lot of poetry. Most of it seems contrived. Yours comes from a true and real perspective, naked and sincere. Thank you!

    1. thank-you so much for your visit, for reading and for your kind words! Much appreciated<3


Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!