Cool Spring


An unusually cooler spring.
I have become accustomed
to watching the birds in my heavy
winter jacket.
The jays shiver when they perch.
The hawks pull in their wings
and soar in a reckless spirit.

I can’t seem to tell myself
to just be warm. I need to
first feel the warmth.
The spring colors do not fade
so easily. The yellow mustard
hills and purple lupine meadows
remain a few extra days.

Life seems more intense
with the extended season.
I delight in this color, rather than turning
to the land of pure inward
thought. Even though
beyond my own thinking
I often find that path to joy.

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