Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Unmerited Grace

With coffee in hand, I thought with a yawn,
Is that the last frost burning off the lawn
Of Riverside Park on the Hudson’s shore
Over my windowsill, steps from my door?
Could winter really be over at last?
Can we expect warmth to be forecast?

But the old man never bit me this year.
Compared to my youth, this was not severe.
Breath clouds unseen, snow barely fell--
If it never arrived, can I bid it farewell?
If never wilted, can my spirits revive
When the crocus and robin arrive?