Impatient Spring Warm morning light eases the transition from melting snow to winter lawn. Four robins skip across the turf, pausing to peck at both soil and snow, ignoring juncos and wrens that forage for dropped seeds below a feeder monopolized by cardinal, titmouse, and chickadee. I step outside for the morning paper, greeted by the call of another robin high in the white oak that towers over the yard. Snow is still banked beside the driveway, witness to shoveling during last week’s introduction to February. Beside it and below the oak lies bare lawn. The robin calls to me, as if to say snow may fall again, but we are here, and there is no stopping spring.
Ken Gierke writes primarily in free verse and haiku. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming both in print and online in such places as Amethyst Review, As It Ought to Be Magazine, Ekphrastic Review, Poetry Breakfast, and Silver Birch Press. Glass Awash, his first collection of poetry, was published by Spartan Press in 2022. His website: https://rivrvlogr.com/
Amethyst Review 
Love these lines especially: “The robin calls to me, as if to say
snow may fall again, but we are here,
and there is no stopping spring.”
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Thank you. 😀
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Thank you, Sarah.
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This reminds me very much of how spring comes to where I live.
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It’s always welcome here!
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Congrats on the pub, Ken. I gotta start sending stuff out again, I guess. Fine work! What is this “bare lawn” of which thou speaketh?
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Thanks, Ron.. Bare lawn — maybe you’ll see it by May?
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This is such a delightful poem. I love it. 😊
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