A Blooming Kind of Day
The light is dim, just a rumor
on the landscape, but the sprouts
are humming in their plots.
They smell the heat before it arrives,
responding to mere suggestion.
The blades of grass stretch and bend
close to their friends, sharing secrets
and salutations, betting which creatures
will emerge next from winter hibernation.
I don’t come apart that way
or, rather, I don’t intend to.
We all have a way of responding
when the sky calls.
Maria Mecham