a poem from the deck

It's springtime.
The I-don't-want-to-come-in-yet time.
When bursting buds throw pollen,
And a squealing child doesn't equal "fallen".

It's springtime.
The grills-are-fired-up-and-ready time.
I shudder at the sound of mowers,
And my stomach grumbles at a hot dog's aroma.

It's springtime.
The can-we-go-to-the-park-yet time.
Fall's leaves still litter the ground,
Yet daffodils emerge to dance all around.

It's springtime.
The I-can't-wait-for-summer time.
Garages are cleared and cars are washed,
Winter really is over; not all is lost.

It's springtime.
Thank-God-I-needed-the-sun time.
Spirits are lifted high once more,
No longer does the darkness persistently implore.

Finally, it's springtime.
Hallelujah, it's springtime.

-Casey L. Higgins, 3.20.2010
Photo Casey L. Higgins, 5.3.04