Today’s weather makes it possible for me to post this poem from a few years past because it looks forward to spring.
Runoff
Last snowcover
outside my window,
once mounded smooth
as new-spun meringue
and clean as a carton
of unscooped ice cream,
now grainy and brittle
and friable beneath my feet.
It’s melting, melting.
The water flows across
still-hard ground,
and escapes into city sewers,
but in my mind,
I hear the rush of rivers
splashing, foaming,
racing me toward springdom.
