For the first day of spring, a poem by Linda Pastan, and a painting.
Spring
Just as we lose hope
she ambles in,
a late guest
dragging her hem
of wildflowers,
her torn
veil of mist,
of light rain,
blowing
her dandelion
breath
in our ears;
and we forgive her,
turning from
chilly winter
ways,
we throw off
our faithful
sweaters
and open
our arms.
—Linda Pastan
Lynn & Donald
A lovely and surprising gift! Thank you! It puts an extra spring into my step.