Tuesday, March 1, 2011


I wrote this about a month ago when I was out pruning the fruit trees on an unusually warm day for February. I am yearning for summer.

Yearning for Summer

the smell of shredded tires

engulfs my senses

as the hot sun blazes into it

the crackling of the depleted wood playground

threatens to crumble onto the

incessantly squeaking yellow swings

that continuously push through the thick hot air

chewed up toys

carelessly strewn about

craving attention

that only comes in the sun

tired brown grass

thirsty for some color

only the heat of the sun can bring

ready to shed the sparkling blanket

that traps the chill above

crocus shoots

prematurely pushing through

still frozen soil

desperately searching out the giver

that’s still 2 months away

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