100 things that make me happy: #16
Spring is such a conundrum. It simultaneously creeps up stealthily, gradually, gently -- and it leaps forth in a sudden green, chirping, chattering, colorful cacophony. I swear that every time I look out my window it's just a bit greener. We've had an actual spring this year, which isn't always the case in the South where we can skip straight to
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Bialybog & Czarnebog
(Sonnet for the seasons)
Because I find the autumn cruel and hard,
I plan contingencies in advance,
saying, “There's the last time a lilting breeze
will touch, like mosquito netting, my skin.
There's the first scent of chilled, wet and pulpy
leaves beneath the path.” And I spend my autumn
stocking for winter, bracing for the blast,
as though weathering a house for a storm.
Spring slips in and out all unnoticed:
a smile caught, almost unobserved on a face,
otherwise squandered, otherwise unseen.
But still, I do not gird for summer days
and they spring at me at one gleaming moment,
like a tiger from beneath a table.
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