sweet spring

This time of year holds more anticipation than when I was a child eagerly awaiting Christmas. All of the world is about to burst forth into bright color. For me, it always feels like that scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy leaves the land of black and white and goes forth in Technicolor. Spring holds so much potential. I find I make more promises to myself now than at new years. A friend of mine is visiting and like the spring-time wind he’s blown back in for a short but welcome stay. Another reminder that all good things return. Robert Creeley is a spectacularly good thing in my world. In his book of poetry, Just In Time Poems 1984-1994, he faces aging and the later years of his life. But even with the heady subject of descent I find these pages full of light and life.  Sadly, this book is no longer in print but it’s worth tracking down if only for the cover portrait of Creeley painted by Francesco Clemente.


You have all the time been
here if not seen, not thought
of as present, for when I
looked I saw nothing, when
I looked again, you had
returned. This echo, sweet
spring, makes a human sound
you have no need of, facts
so precede, but you hear, you
hear it, must feel the intent
wetness, mushy. I melt again
into your ample presence.

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