Tag Archives: spring

Spring Sprang


The dawn rose cleaner this morning.

The bird washed their faces in the morning light

And sang hello to a new day,

And the daffodils trumpeted a silent salutation to the sun.


What a day for spring.

The breeze decided I should wear my hair differently

And the blossoms liked the arrangement so well

They stuck to it for a moment

Before flitting on.


What a day for spring.


There were roses in my hands and in my head,

So much the fountain laughed at me,

Chuckling to itself, slapping hands with the sky,

Shooting off sparks.


What a day for spring.


And when the sun got tired of tumbling,

He settled himself in a rocking chair,

Kicking his yellow feet in the grass and glowing it

While it hummed to itself.


And I thought, thought I,

What a day for spring.



Condensed Thought


Today I scribbled down some rhymes, them left them to ripen in my journal for the rest of the day. I thought I’ve have a poem by tonight, but it didn’t happen. 

Today was a poetical day. Very warm and breezy. I wore bright colors by way of celebration. I thought I should write something about it, so I am. 

Today I slept in late and was very awake for the rest of the day. That may not be true tomorrow. Oh well, today was a good day to be wakeful. 

Today was good. I hope it was a good day for you. And if not…there’s always tomorrow. 

Final Projects


It’s that time of year. It’s that time of year when students run to computer labs with thumb-drives in hand, prepared to print enough final class papers to justify milling a whole rain-forest to provide the paper. I turned in one today (a paper, that is, not a rain-forest), and there are more to come. 

Our final project for poetry writing class is to write something of our choice, picking from any of the forms we’ve studied this semester. I chose a sonnet–because I like sonnets. 

So here is my sonnet.


Like rain after infernal draught, you came

To flood my heart with love it had not known.

As grass and tress left withered, cracked, and lame

Respond to rain, my soul’s blushed green, and grown.

I am revived beneath your gentle rain

That fills the cracks forged in the summer’s heat.

Silently the drops dispel the pain

That dried my soul—a wasteland of defeat.

Now the dry, infertile ground expands,

With fragile shoots uncurling from the earth;

Here they’ll flourish: in the safety of your hands—

For you are kind, and conscious of their worth.

Your love brought living things back to this place

As rain replaced the teardrops on my face.

Which Way Did It Go?


Spring, that is. Where did it go?

I mean, the trees were blooming. The daffodils were swaying in the breeze. Pollen was beginning to drop from the trees in great yellow clouds. Birds were singing all hours of the day and night. The sky was clear and the days were full of mild breezes. People started swapping out their boots for sandals and their sweaters for t-shirts.

It was atrocious.

Winter came back today. Granted, it was bone-chillingly cold and wretchedly damp—but then there was the glorious warmth of the classrooms and the necessity for tea. This was a good day to start reading Dante’s Inferno­—if there can be such a thing as a good day to start reading that book. All of my spare time today was spent reading, with the pleasant sound of rain tapping at my window. When I did have to walk through the rain, though, I was pleasantly reminded of winter and felt a little more cheerful again.

…okay, yeah. I’m weird.

Rain does make it difficult to get from point A to B. And there’s nothing fun about having toes so cold and wet that you can’t feel them. But having a legitimate reason to sing “Singin’ in the Rain” is delightful. Whistle it, if you can, loudly enough to show the rain and the wind that you don’t care how hard they blow. If your sunshine’s on the inside, it doesn’t matter anyhow.

There’s a poem in there somewhere.

Week Accomplished


This week was Undisclosed University’s spring break.

When I say “spring break,” I mean we didn’t go to classes but we did go to a lot of other things—services and such. There was more free time than is usual, but that free time is usually best spent catching up with people who you like very much but don’t get to see on a regular basis.

So nothing classwork-wise gets done. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

This may also explain the low quality of the posts of the past week.

Movie-watching happens. Playing games with friends for hours happens. Reading works of contemporary fiction happens. Napping happens. Getting in a little extra exercise happens. Classwork, despite our best intentions, does not happen. This is the way UU spring break goes. This is the way it is every year, no matter how well we plan. We need that week of not thinking about classes. We have to think about them for the rest of the semester, so it’s good to push back from our desks for a week and put life in perspective.

However, I haven’t so much as glanced at a syllabus in over a week. There’s stuff due Monday, but I have only a vague idea of what it might be.

Oddly, I’m okay with that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about college, it’s that everything gets done eventually. It may not get done ahead of time, and it may not get done until the evening before, but it will get done.

In terms of checks on a checklist, this week was a failure. In terms of making memories that will last me for the next fifty years at least, it was a roaring success.

Not bad.

Spring Has Sprung


A joyous vernal equinox to you all. Or, translated into laymen’s English, “Happy Spring, y’all.”

Or not so joyous. If you’re like me (count your blessings if you’re not), then Spring may not be a good thing. Spring may be a bearer of bad tidings. Spring may hold bad memories. Spring may mean temperamental rainstorms and wind that ties your hair in knots. Spring may mean saying a lot of “goodbyes.” Spring may mean being unable to find your car under the mountain of pollen heaped on top of it. Spring may bring a host of negative connotations, including but not limited to allergy-related sneezing fits.

But if this is not your problem, then I hope your first day of spring was a good one, with the promise of many more to come.

The rest of us will go into hibernation until autumn, when hopefully conditions will be favorable again.

Melt Into Springs


After weeks of utter frigidity, suddenly I feel as though I’ve been transported further south than I already am.

We’ve had week after week of blustery weather here in Anytown. Grey, frosty, windy, and rainy—in short, utterly poetic, and giving me an unending hankering for hot tea and Bronte novels.

Yet, somehow, suddenly, it is spring. The air is warm and smells of the promise of rain. The birds get up and sing earlier and louder than I’d really like them to. The sun is no longer encumbered by clouds, and feels free to bump the temperature and the brightness up by several degrees. I’ve got the sunburn to prove it.

Of course, this is Anytown we’re talking about. It was bright and balmy today, but there’s monsoon in the forecast for tomorrow. And then, two days later, there will be sunshine again.

But our less-than-silvery-white winter, at last, is melting into spring.

My hankering for tea and Bronte novels has not lessened one iota.

Maybe I can delay the inevitable.



…it’s March?

When did this happen?

I was just getting all used to February, and now we’ve got to change months? What’s up with that?

March is always a weird month for me. It’s always the last full month I have of being whatever age I am at the moment. It’s the weird month where Winter sort of half-packs her bags and thinks about moving out, but kicks up a fit every time you suggest she might have overstayed her welcome. The flowers come out, but it’s still chilly enough to whither the skin on your hands and require the use of sweaters.

I’m not over-fond of springtime. Early spring is fine, before the heat and the pollen settle in to stay for the next three months. Early spring in Anytown is cool, pleasant, and green, and makes me want to abandon my shoes by the nearest tree and march through the green grass, letting my toes taste the delicious newness of life that’s springing up under my feet. Maybe that’s why it’s called March. Maybe that’s why it’s called spring.

However, after that point, spring becomes full-fledged, sneeze-inspiring spring. After the first few warm days and warm rains, spring ceases to be fun for me.

My conception of time is the opposite of most people’s. I know that traditionally, spring has always been associated with rebirth and new beginnings. To me, however, spring is always the beginning of the end. Spring means parting ways. Spring means departure. Spring means the conclusion of happy days.

Fall always makes me think of beginnings. Fall leaves me optimistic about life. The air has the taste of newness, and the sky doesn’t look clearer or bluer to me than the way it does in fall. Fall means new opportunities. Fall means new friends. Fall means “hello.”

But spring always means “goodbye.”

Maybe this is because of graduation. The closer I get to the end of college, the more friends I see leave, scattered to the four winds—and never come back. In high school you were at least fairly certain that you’d see the same set of people the next year after summer break was over. But now, summer comes and goes, and new faces come, but fewer and fewer old faces return.

That’s the way it goes, I suppose. After all, one day I’ll leave, too.

Still. Spring is on its way, which means I must arm myself with boxes of tissues and hours of fiddle music. Winter’s time is almost up. Spring brings its share of joys, and I’ll embrace them. Dance through them, if I have to, just for the sake of dancing.

Springtime Snow


We didn’t get out snow this year. The first year in my whole life that I have gone without seeing a single flake. As a southern girl who never got to see much of the magical white stuff when she was growing up, it was a sad, sad winter.

My northern friends groan when I tell them that I’m sad there was no snow. “You should live where I come from,” they say. “You’ll get so much snow you’ll be sick of it.”

Maybe so. For me, snow is still so rare in my life that it’s still magical. In my mind, no child had ever been a kid until he spends one afternoon playing in the snow. I got very few, and even as a emerging adult, I hunger for more.

But as I was walking past the trees outside my dorm, I realized something beautiful. These trees have been in bloom for the past week, and their limbs are laden with the purest white blossoms you have ever seen. But now the blossoms are falling to make way for the leaves, and white petals are floating down from the trees just like…


And I think to myself, what a wonderful God. What a wonderful God to give me snow, even when winter is long gone. Thank you, Lord, for springtime snow.

Yellow Cement Road


There’s not much not to love about spring. Flowers, butterflies, birds singing, breezes blowing, mirth, merriment, people falling in love, blah blah blah. All that jazz. Spring is lovely—a time for new things to blossom and grow.

However, every season has its downside. ‘Tis the season for sneezing here in Anytown. All the new flowers bring bucket loads of pollen, which coats our cars, our sidewalks, and our lungs from March until August. We like to joke that this is the time of year where all the white cars turn pale green. Every CVS in town sells Benadryl in the front window, knowing that everyone, repeat everyone, will need to be drugged up just to avoid blowing holes in their sinuses from all the sneezing.

I personally battle allergies year round—itchy eyes, scratchy throat, runny nose, the works. This year I seem to have it even worse: I just look at a blossom and start sneezing. I go through about four tissues a minute. I love the beauty of spring, but I can’t get too close, or my eyes will water for the rest of the day.

The more I see of creation, the more I’m looking forward to when it will all be made new. When the lord sets the earth to rights, I’ll be able to enjoy an eternal springtime without the agony of allergies. That, my friends, is a happy thought.

Spring Break…ish


Here at UU, we don’t get a spring break. I know that sounds heretical, but it’s true. Instead, we have a conference for the week, with guest speakers who speak on Biblical themes.

It’s lovely.

For one week, we are allowed to have social lives again. People eat off campus, family members come down, take naps in the sun—there’s no classes, so all of us poor, cloistered college students have a chance to, like, live.

Like I said, it’s lovely.

However, comma, because there’s suddenly a chance to have a social life, my calendar for the week just got painfully full.

So contrary to what you might think, I now have even less time to write quality material for this blog.

I’m sorry in advance for the little-thought-through crud you all will be reading this week. But you’ll have to pardon me, I’m spring break-ing…kind of.