Spring?

It is so difficult for me to write in my blog every day. Either the computer is slow and I lose patience, or I'm "too busy," or want to keep my thoughts to myself, or....... I wonder how people who are MUCH busier than I am, with a lot of responsibilities, seem to find the time and never miss a day.

This has been a non-winter winter, really. It was close to 80 degrees yesterday, the first of March! It will be near that again today. We've had a few really cold days and some measureable rain, but not a real winter.  I was thinking of a particularly snowy winter in Nevada City, CA, when I lived with my dad up on Banner Mountain. We had four feet of snow on the deck and my truck was totally buried at the top of the driveway. Spring finally arrived and I decided to write a poem. My oldest grandson, who will be 35 years old this month (yikes!), helped to inspire it.  So -

                                         *************************************
                CELEBRATION

Pausing by the window, pondering cold,
I shiver at the white expanse of sky.
Staid ponderosas, posed in staggered splendor,
Proud and silent, hold their rigid posts
On God's half-acre that I call My Own.
They whisper cautious secrets each to each
Through offices of some tiptoeing breeze,
But only sometimes moan to graying heavens
When arctic tocsins blast and call down snow.
With drooping arms encased in heavy cloaks,
They sigh and beg surcease from lingering storms.
Jeffrey, douglas, cedar and madrone,
A rumpled oak and timid dogwood, too,
Add their own importunate soft plaint,
Speaking with the same self-conscious hush
When coaxed by Nature's circulating breath.

At last, the journeyed Sun returns. In pledge
He offers Spring, arrayed in radiant smiles
That overwhelm the chill complaint of dawn,
While jays and towhees wake surrounding hills.
Now still, they wait in nervous expectation
Events they sense through some inherent gift.
Soon, every branch is touched by prescient fingers,
Which wander shameless, flirting, tree to tree.
The ardent pines respond to their caresses,
Unfolding virgin candles to the warmth.
A wakened beetle sounds a rapturous click.
Seduced, another hesitantly clacks.
Unsatisfied, the Sun demands more zeal,
And wins the forest with his fevered suit.
Cacophonic crackles charge the air -
A thousand simultaneous reports.
In ecstasy the stately forest stands
Forget their inhibitions and aplomb.

Gazing from the window, opened wide,
I stretch and inhale green thoughts from the air.
Winter's essence skitters from my mind
As quadraphonic din assails my ears.
A witness to the raucous, wild abandon,
My grandson listens, marveling, and says,
"The trees are talking, Grandma, do you hear?
I think they must be celebrating Spring."

                                                 ********************************

3/2/12