Spring is like a perhaps hand

I'm returned from a delightful sojourn in Boston where I was wined/dined/toured/hosted/etc. by a longtime friend (twas fabulous) to a disgruntled DC (with good reason!), numerous grad school open houses, and a busy workload. But the key change is that there is overflowing greenery EVERYWHERE. Yes, it is a fantastically beautiful day and minus the scarily epic pollen activity of late (yes, monitoring the weather is tres 2009.... now it's all about tracking allergen menace), I am so pleased with and thankful for the arrival of springtime. And it's only the beginning...

Springing

In a skiff on a sunrisen lake we are watchers.

Swimming aimlessly is luxury just as walking

loudly up a shallow stream is.

As we lean over the deep well, we whisper.

Friends at hearths are drawn to the one warm air;

strangers meet on beaches drawn to the one wet sea.

What wd it be to be water, one body of water

(what water is is another mystery) (We are

water divided.) It wd be a self without walls,

with surface tension, specific gravity a local

exchange between bedrock and cloud of falling and rising,

rising to fall, falling to rise

by Marie Ponsot