Springtime at last

By Gretta Barclay

Four long winter months have passed
Fourteen frigid weeks
One hundred twenty days
And now,
Out my kitchen window,
Too long absent from my eye
Spring has come at last
To my back yard…

So I will go outside
And lie in the soft green grass
Beneath the oaks and sycamores
And see fresh buds appearing
While I look upon a bright blue sky

And I know, beyond my sight
In the far distant field
Where there are still patches of snow
Just now beginning to go,
Spring-time is coming to the meadow, too.

I hear wrens and robins
Begin to sing and call
To other waking creatures all around
And from tree to tree
I can see
A robin, a dove, a chickadee --
Males chasing females
In the bright morning sun
Robins displaying red bulging breasts
Enticing females to their nests.

The rabbits, too long cold, shake their tails
And hale the newborn spring
Another season in which to romp
And stomp their rabbit feet.

And now I want to go
Wherever nature calls to me.
I will follow the winds, animal movements,
woods running wild with color
And the sunsets over the fields.

Before this day is done
I will want to paint
And put upon a canvas
The colors and the forms
The emotions and the joys
That this season brings,

For when melancholy moments
Come in late December
I will want to remember
This day and time
When spring came to my back yard
And the joy it brought to me.

Art by Mo

Gretta Barclay is an author, poet and artist. She is a guest writer at Writers Resources Cafe.

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