Sounds of Springtime

Illustration by Sarah Deas

drip
drip
drip
intermittent robin blackbird chickadee
mutterings
despite two feet of soggy-wool-blanket snow
drip
a caress of cloud-breath breeze
whose hand has only
slapped you since September, but
now tickles
drip
in some mocking penitence.

squelch
of shoes whose rubber soles loose
to the growing puddle glum
drip
of pent-up floods. She breathes out, Spring,
exhaling the tears
of Winter’s storms
drip
like a squalling child.
She smells nice as if
she were named after dish soap
drip
but oh the dirt and grime and crusted
salt (but she tastes of bitter days
before the daffodils)
drip
the slip and shiver of shoes
as she thaws, creeps, pause
freeze
drip
crawls into the light.

drip