Our spring colors are grey.
And white. And mud. There!
A flash of blue. Blue jay!
March roared in like a lion.
And stayed. Prowling. Roar!
Cold. Snow. Rain. No spring!
Colors washed, faded, to grey.
Our hearts stay warm. Inside!
Rich reds, blues. Purple. Green!
We so long for green. For color.
Sending love. Up. up. UP!
Spring, come back, we miss you!
Red tail lights under the Trickster Moon.
Coyote laughing. Winter’s last days.
Geese fly ’round in vain. No water here!
Spring, like our hearts, awaits the time.
The time to fly. To bloom. To rise!
Winter holds on tight. Too tight!
Windows stay shuttered. Blind.
I won’t watch it snow again. AGAIN!
Sleet mimics rain. So cruel a tease.
A patch of last year’s grass, dead green.
We stare at it. Does it get bigger? Yet?
Even the horses lust for it. Ache.
I’d trade this piled high white and grey.
Trade it for warm brown. Dusty hues.
Colored pencils become a bouquet.
Red hearts rising from chimneys dark.
Windows closed against the cold.
Spring, we are waiting. Come! Come!
Grace has us working with the lovely, and inspiring art of Sunita, and she did have us talking about spring and colors. Well. WELL! Our spring so far has been 50 shades of grey, and we are lusting for something more. Something green. Something muddy. Something NOT snow. NOT white. NOT grey. Drifts shrink too slowly and the warmth is more a tease than something deeper. I’m sure my poetic counterparts have brighter spring words for you, why don’t you head over and check them out?