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Another Poem About Spring

We all went to a Poetry Jam in Perry, New York last night, hosted by our friend Jordan; College student, poet, and the son of our friends Rich and Lara. It’s such a neat thing to see a kid you’ve known since he was about six grow into a creative, thoughtful, confident young man at the threshold of a life of boundless possibilities!

The venue was small, but for poetry reading, intimate is nice. Several people read their creations; some who had published poems and others who had not. And a couple of young guys and a woman played guitar and sang. It was very enjoyable.

At the last minute I thought about bringing some of my own poems to read (after all – it was an open reading kind of thing). I have one book with stuff going back about forty years; but of course, I couldn’t find it! Other poetry is scattered around in various notebooks and on the computer. But since the family was now in the car waiting for me to go, I left empty-handed.

On the drive to Perry, however, I wrote down some words. But when we got there, I didn’t think it was poem-worthy enough yet to read out loud. I kind of wish I had, now.

Poetry is a funny thing. It’s very interesting to hear other people read their work. For my own writing, the only important thing is that I like it. Some of my poems I definitely like more than others. It’s nice when a poem can express something beyond the words. So here is what I wrote last night:

Squinting sun shines down ancient avenues of glowing grass; down a corridor of newly clothed trees, shedding Spring light on memories of camp-outs, Lord of the Rings and youthful adventures.

Sweet April is fading into sunset across new-plowed fields; a glinting tractor; cows ambling home over rich dark earth.

Apple blossoms never grow old, their creamy white fists bursting into leaf.

I consume the evening air like a succulent dessert; even the far-off scent of manure brings delicious reminiscence.

Cool pine shadows point their fingers toward the night; sky leaps over shining mirrors of open water.

A goose regards me with mellow recognition and says “What a wonderful moment in which to be alive!”

Onward, moving onward; rolling hills meld into evening, clothed in forests growing verdant with possibility.

I welcome the Spring night; the chilly stars or maybe a gentle rain; and the blooming flowers that morning will bring.

Changing; everything always changing; moving onward through our lives, across the seasons of experience. Onward until it finally flows me away.

I hear the voices of my children shrieking with delight in the distance; in the bright playground of Springtime.

What a wonderful moment in which to be alive!

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