Earliest Spring
The rolling prairie of earliest Spring
looks like an old quilt covering the hills and farms and wild spaces
with it's different squares and shape in different shades and colors
The corn stubble is still amber
and most of the bean stubble is still a dull grey
But the hay fields are just starting to turn green
like black and white photographs
that someone has touched-up with some watercolors
Here and there squares of the quilt have been tilled or plowed
revealing deep, dark browns
Jagged swathes are an even darker brown, almost black
where farmers are working on terraces and removing dead trees
Black lines trace the ditches where weeds and grass were burned
and faint green whiskers are peeking through the black
where controlled fires shaved culverts clean
deeper greens edge the creeks and brooks
From a distance the woods look like a fuzzy dark taupe
sometimes hinting at dusty rose or plum or just plain grey and brown
who'd imagine the white they wore just weeks ago, the glorious golds months ago, or the summer greens to come?
I can see what Grant Wood saw in his paintings
all my children can see are all the "BABY COWS!" prancing around their patient, stoic mothers
My lawn is finally regaining color and our trees are budding
and my children laugh at how fluffy and fat the robins have become
I figure their feathers are ruffled
like a turned up collar against a brisk April breeze
but my kids know it's because they're all pregnant
and about to have babies
I open my window wide and let the curtains flutter
and inhale the soft, hopeful breath of the new and listen to the chattering chorus of those expectant mothers
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.