Untitled For March
Even the most stubborn trees now budding,
all the holdouts that procrastinate,
like that arrogant little Red Oak
who never cares if he’s always late,
or that weepy, unwilling willow.
But now the turn of axis and the rains insist
that all cooperate and all lift leaf
and seed from Winter’s pillow.
Despite their sullen reluctance
and the threat of Spring-borne storm,
they gladly choose the fate of the reborn
and in so doing are rewarded, the chosen
of cardinal and crow.
So Spring returns and all revives
but men still fight and lose their lives.
Even birds and trees can understand
what living means, have the sense to know
the difference between what suffers and dies,
and what will grow.
Copyright 2008 – Softwood: Seventy-eight Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald
Last edited by GaryBFitzgerald, Apr/25/2014, 10:36 pm
Mar/21/2014, 8:31 pm
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