Betwixt

crocus

What wand whisked up this kite-flying day
making whippoorwill trills with its breeze through bare branches?

What spell was cast to conjure this sunshine
that teases green kisses from tips of the crocus?

February must be napping today
while rapscallions stir up this magic
tricking us all into losing our mittens
when surely the chill will arouse once again
and freeze out these impish intruders.

 

This poem was inspired by a delightful day where the temps reached the 50’s, which is unseasonably mild for February in Michigan. Of course the reprieve was brief and followed by winter’s return blanketing us in snow – a little yin weather in a yang season.

winter night2
The lake in the park last night
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3 thoughts on “Betwixt

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