Sometimes spring

Sometimes spring comes

not in new leaf green and the frolic of lambs

but in the slime and leftovers of winter,

gutters of dank leaves

and the colours of spring are jonquil pale,

grape hyacinth blue—

dark, deep blue and fragile.


Sometimes the golden daffodils signal cancer

and a spring wind slices the smile off our face

we clutch the dark of winter

to our hearts, despair’s familiar scarf up to our necks

and smell the decomposing dreams

of musty bulbs, not planted.


Yet we believe—

after the chill, the thaw

and azure skies, and blossom trees, and tulips’ blaze will come

and slim tendrils of faith

will crack our densest walls, finding the sun


And spring is here, tight fronds unfurling

and summer will follow: Christ reborn in our land

So we give thanks

So we give thanks.

So we give thanks.

go to black dog blues pages

© Bronwyn Angela White (2007)—Wellington, New Zealand

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 New Zealand License


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