Poetry Sunday

Spring is slowly drawing near, and with it my urge to get back out and get myself dirty in my garden. Some green has already arrived, as my chives are zooming up quickly, eager to take part in a nice breakfast omelet, as today's poem by David Budbill suggests ...

The First Green of Spring 

by David Budbill 

Out walking in the swamp picking cowslip, marsh marigold,

this sweet first green of spring. Now sautéed in a pan melting

to a deeper green than ever they were alive, this green, this life,

harbinger of things to come. Now we sit at the table munching

on this message from the dawn which says we and the world

are alive again today, and this is the world’s birthday. And

even though we know we are growing old, we are dying, we

will never be young again, we also know we’re still right here

now, today, and, my oh my! don’t these greens taste good.

Spring always tastes good. And freshly-turned earth smells good, and blossoming plants look good, and nature sounds good as the birds return to sing the praises of warmer weather. And, of course, we are able once again to touch each other without multiple intervening layers of heavy coats. What's not to love about spring?

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo