Better late than never

My little friend and I were both up early to celebrate the first day of spring.

Sure, I understand the calendars say it arrived a month ago.

But the residents of Minnesota must have missed the memo.

Up here in the ‘bold north’ we’ve been breaking the kind of records that no one ever wants to break.

For example, surviving the coldest April in recorded history.

And also what definitely seemed like the longest winter of my life.

After last weekend’s blizzard our moods had gone south and were almost as heavy as the snow.

Still by midweek on a walk I’d discovered one beacon of hope atop a light post overlooking a soccer field.

It was a bold and beautiful bald eagle sitting on her favorite nest.

Apparently she’d just returned to the state as she knew spring was finally about to arrive.

I knew it as well today as the sun melted the last of the snow while I walked for hours out in the country.

I guess good things really do come to those who wait.

And I’m not going to miss one single thing.

Harvest of peace

We rock away our worries from a chair and old porch swing.
My view’s a field of drying hay.
And hers, of chicks that sing.
She left a city full of woe where no one gets along.
It seems those birds know more than us when breaking into song.
They chant of peace, the plant we crave to feed each hungry soul.
I pray we harvest a bumper crop before there’s a bigger toll.

Winter’s unraveling

Convertibles go topless.

Old thick coats now an afterthought.

Hardy ice fisherfolk retreat to shore.

As kids clad in shorts shout, “No more!”

Then golf clubs appear as fast as the bikes.

As those cows in the country moo with glee.

Does that manure thawing smell seem almost ‘sweet’?

Or has spring fever now come over me?