Winter seasons’ past, spring is idling its way to renown
a special year this – leaves carried down the quick racing Farmington
Densely matted foliage crushed into compost waiting
Seasonal plantings – this year more fingerling potatoes smooth and tasty,
Basil stalks thrusting skywards, continually dead-headed to
Preserve the fragrant leaves at least through the
Tomato season. Sunflowers thrust themselves high only
To hang their heads in bounty.
Jungle vines scream in their rush to wrap about sturdier stock
along wires, into cracks in hut shingles, demanding infiltration
There is no rest in spring. Life rushes pell mell along its was
forgetting the cares of city dwellers-
It is a time to worship – the stars, fireflies, campfires
of summer’s long embrace. Even the flickering, tension filled
Apprehension of summer storms pounding, is naught but the match for
Of greater instances of Nature’s grand power.
Their coppery smells and fearsome noises
swirling into the potent mixture
already exposed – light jagged, breaking into fork
some hurtled across the sky, striking ground
burning unsuspecting trees while
goofy kids dance the rain dance,
counting the days till school’s end.