Spring comes slowly to the mountains, and sometimes, seemingly, not at all.
all those many weeks with a stick-filled horizon against muted skies.
patches of snow holding claim to the ground.
But there is a gift in all this waiting–
the fine-tuning of attention
Where magic resides…
That first stencil of leaf
In golden hues
“Nature’s first green.”
And it is the poet,
inside each us, who is awakened
by these subtle shades of hope.
Little by little, and sometimes, seemingly,
“in great leaps,”
the land awakens in a chorus of color.
Which is almost true in the valley, with
its daffodils & dandelions, but not yet
on the mountaintop.
Here the seduction is slower,
Maple buds up the driveway
Spreads of greening across the lawn
The first violets
The return of the chives
The lady’s mantle whose leaves have opened
the morning dew.