Note to Spring

14 Comments

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Photo © 2017 by V. Nesdoly

Note to Spring

The monsoons of March
with their downpours and douses
are greening the sides
of the fences and houses.

Yes, we love green   (it is St. Paddy’s Day, after all!)
but we’re eager for more
colors to brighten
the outdoor decor.

Purple and yellow
red, blue, pink, and white
we’re longing to find
in the lengthening light.

Please don’t delay,
feeling bound by the date.
The welcome mat’s out, Spring,
we’ve unlatched the gate!

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

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Goodies on display at Scoop ‘n’ Save – Langley, BC.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by the incredibly talented Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge.

 

 

 

14 thoughts on “Note to Spring

  1. I like your picture and poem, Violet. Sure looks better than the blanket of white we have at the moment. I have a very sad daffodil that was first whipped by wind and then crushed by snow. I hope I get a few that can hold their heads up. But, the cold won’t last long! Happy St. Pat’s Day!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Our gate has long sprung, Violet, and now we worry that winter will make one more sneaky visit. I think your poem might be a song to sing, yes, for spring! Thanks, I enjoyed it very much.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh, those cupcakes look delicious! You used one of my favorite words… “greening”. Hooray for more green in the world. I agree with Linda B. this is a song to put a spring in my step.

    Like

    • Thanks, Heidi… and you’re on:

      Our fences are covered with moss— not surprising, when rain is the boss. But when Spring sun comes out though that moss starts to pout we won’ t cry when that green gets the toss.

      Mossy green is a gift to the eyes now our wintered eyes want the surprise of yellow and blue purple, pink and red too under vernal and baby blue skies.

      (Pretty bad I know. Oh well…;)

      >

      Like

  4. Love that last line, and that photo, oh. I do miss the color, the blue skies, the delicate fronds of Japanese maple trees and smokebush flowers. I’m with you, Violet, reveling in my past memories of springs munificence, that gorging on color.

    Like

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