Spring Fever

Winter coat discarded on the hood
Of the car. The left-over snow beats
A hasty retreat: It is trying to hide
Behind the pines. Almost vernal,
the sun inspires shirt-sleeves
as we clear away remnants of winter.

Christmas lights stripped from the bushes,
Icicle lights melt until next year. We bag and box
Away
All signs of winter’s trappings.

Pine smoke wafts
From backyard burn barrels:
Dead branches dealt with by
Ice storm’s wrath are consumed.

Yellow green crocus shoot
Shames the tangle of last year’s stems
As it rises above a forgotten Christmas decoration.
Mind’s ear hears it saying:
I am the decoration now.

Lilac branches show earliest signs of
Perfume to come; wandering then to
The twisted tree in the corner of the garden.
Ice and wind spared all here
And soon, apple blossoms will bloom again.

Winter, pale and sickly, creeps
Away to die beneath the bushes.
Spring aches to burst
Forth in uncontrolled delirium.

Internal temperature hovering
In the low hundreds
Is not enough to quell burning urges
To escape into the sun.

The infusion of robin’s song
Is all the medicine I need.
The freshening air
Heralding spring-
The perfect physician.