SPRING SUNLIGHT

by
 Gwen Austin 
  copyright 1999

Ethereal, hopeful, promising more,
spring sunlight awakens morning mist
obscuring winter's rubble.

Spring sunlight casts side shadows
among the trees,
stripes dark, furrowed trunks,
spotlights furry moss and silver lichen.
It christens lime-green buds
of hazel, cottonwood, alder and blackberry vines.
It highlights dingy-green sword ferns edged with rust.
Its suffused glow leads the eye to beyond.

Spring sunlight on the meadow 
dances in the crystal ball
of a raindrop clinging
to a winter-dried wild grass blade.
It nudges tightly-curled trillium,
hiding at forest-edge,
to open its white trumpets.
It spurs on chickweed, ground moss, dandelion, thistle
into prodigious procreation.
  It entices robins to dine
on groggy worms.

Spring sunlight sets my soul aglow.
It bids me heft rake and hoe
to rout out nature's flora,
dubbed 'weeds' by you and me.
It propels me to putter on the porch,
sweep away winter's debris,
 scour plastic chairs, 
repot root-bound bonsai,
trim scraggly aubrieta and alyssum,
fill the giant strawberry humming bird feeder.

Spring sunlight compels me to sit
and envision the meadow in full wild-flower array,
the beckoning shade of sheltering trees
on a hot summer day,
a busy birdbath with sparrows, chickadees,
nuthatches, robins and rufous-sided tohees at play.
But best of all, to pause and dream and create a poem.

SUN SPOTS BY