Column for the Greenbank Gazette
The rain and sun,
those on-again, off-again friends,
have set the date--become engaged!
They’ve been sitting together, of late,
on a rusted swing,
gaily contriving to consummate
some glorious spring!
Shut me out!
Their lark!
Shade-puddles and I, lost in gloom,
plot like winter spies,
contracting with the night to hold on.
We are held at bay.
They don’t even see me.
I pout and wait.
Much later in the month,
I reluctantly decide
nothing is really wrong with May.
She’ll throw her flowers,
and I’ll throw rice, like April,
far away.
It marks the end of something--
the bells, the wedding of rain and sun.
And who knows from this bright ending,
what has already begun?
Kay Weeks
1970
The rain and sun,
those on-again, off-again friends,
have set the date--become engaged!
They’ve been sitting together, of late,
on a rusted swing,
gaily contriving to consummate
some glorious spring!
Shut me out!
Their lark!
Shade-puddles and I, lost in gloom,
plot like winter spies,
contracting with the night to hold on.
We are held at bay.
They don’t even see me.
I pout and wait.
Much later in the month,
I reluctantly decide
nothing is really wrong with May.
She’ll throw her flowers,
and I’ll throw rice, like April,
far away.
It marks the end of something--
the bells, the wedding of rain and sun.
And who knows from this bright ending,
what has already begun?
Kay Weeks
1970
Note: The Forsythia is blooming; the grass is greening; and Camilla is preening. Change is in the air. My grandchild, Ariella, is up in a high chair eating almost real food. Now, I must start walking in earnest! Out into this beautiful day!
1 comment:
That Camilla is something else! Love the photos by the way and your poetry from 1970........
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