Wednesday, May 17, 2017


(View my more realistic calendar-challenged revision that follows my poem!)

Spring, the Lover

Spring startled me today
as I shook out the dust mop.
He took me by surprise
I didn't realize
he had arrived.
He slipped behind me
ruffled my hair with the wind
kissed my cheek with the sun
laughed to see me blush.
His warm breath caressed my neck
teasing me, making me restless
as I swept winter from the porch.
I tried to brush him from my mind
by staying indoors at humdrum tasks.
He rustled the curtains
trying to attract my attention
flirting with me
through the open window.
I can't resist him!
I must run away with him
right away today. So I race
trowel and seeds in hand
to our garden rendezvous
our “special place”
eager for the touch
of the rich mulch
the sweet, earthy scent
of Virginia country soil.
Despite the lingering chill
of retreating March wind
I kneel in ecstasy
in the moist flower bed
breathing hard
delighted to feel basic nature
and the hope of life
incipient in the seed
about to experience
I cast off my winter inhibition
and yield to the thrill
of Spring's embrace!

My update revision spring 2017
(I actually wrote the above poem when I was only age 60!)

"shook out the dust mop" ? Not anymore. I'm allergic to dust.
"my open window"? No, my allergist advises me that the pollen will be bad for me even indoors if I open my windows.
"run away with him"? "race to the garden"?  I don't run anywhere anymore...I have all I can do just to walk without falling!
"touch the rich mulch"?  No, again. Mold is the third thing to which I'm allergic!
"kneeling in ecstasy"? Oh no! If I kneel I can't get up without help!
"breathing hard"? Oh yeah! But it's not from romantic emotion but from being short of breath with COPD.
"planting seeds in the moist flower bed"? No longer. I leave the gardening to younger members of my family. What I proudly did today is to plant 3 small cherry tomato plants in big pots on my deck!
The bottom line? YES! I still "yield to the thrill" of each new spring as if it were my first and celebrate each day as a generous gift of our loving God!

Poem above from Leona's new book PSALMS OF MY HARVEST, p.127

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