John I. Blair
Another Texas January day,
Cloudy, humid, far too warm,
Starlings swirling in spotty flocks.
On the ponds in the valley park
The Yankee ducks cruise calmly,
Confident that ice will never form.
If I looked into my muted garden
I might see a hardy spike of crocus,
But I know Friday will be frigid once again.
Yet just now I thought I felt February,
The sticky stems of fresh-picked daffodils
Seeping clear gel on the ground.
I thought I smelled March,
A hint of honeyed nectar on the air
From hyacinths pushing old leaves apart.
I thought I heard April,
A stiff-tailed wren singing in the eleagnus,
Warm rain dripping from the eaves.
Whatever bitter winds may storm around
The corners of my house,
Spring is safely sheltered in my heart.
©2005 John I. Blair