Spring is Just a Rumor

SPRING IS JUST A RUMOR

I wander with my winter heart,
inhaling the March tones,
the silence of things,
the showy sunset.
If the sky had a scent
it would smell of
tangerines and honey.
The birds speckle the air
with flecks of color:
rubied cardinal, rusted robin,
purpled finch.

Tulip buds hide and ache
beneath the snow, yearning
for their colors.
I breathe in the smell
of a winter fire, the
loneliness of chimney smoke.
I fret about the looming hollow
of moon shadows across
midnight walls. Spring
is just a cruel rumor,
whispered bitingly
among the oaks.

© Sherri Brannon 2014

Every winter, 
when the great sun has turned his face away,
 the earth goes down into a vale of grief, 
and fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
 leaving her wedding-garlands to decay -
then leaps in spring to his returning kisses. ~Charles Kingsley

Actually, spring is more than a rumor...it's a tiny light in the distance, and I can see it. This makes me happy! It's supposed to be in the 60s here for the next couple of days. I'm so ready to let go of the winter "blahs", so much so that this poem irritates me when I read it back. These words I wrote are tiresome...remnants of that melancholy head space I get caught up in every February and March. I'm so ready to let them go and move on to the renewal of spring!

The photo was taken with my iPhone on a winter sunset walk to our community lake recently. Thank you for stopping by! I'm linking up today with Poetry Pantry.