Tuesday, February 15, 2011

I am not a pessimist

As I stood looking out the window,
Spring melted away the winter blues
With fresh green leaves emerging
From buds conceived in a womb of frost.
The sound of melting snow trickled
Down the roof and through the gutter, while birds,
Hopping, singing, building, flying
Through the sun-kissed, pink-and-purple sky,
Flirted with me. I noted the grass bravely
Shook off its white robes of mourning,
While the wind, gently stirring the
Busily-emerging verdure, breathed life
Into each of its outstretched fingers.

The trees are getting their leaves!
I remarked to my husband.

They will all die later this week, he said.
It is supposed to snow on Thursday.

And he calls me
A pessimist.

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