Spring Cowardice

Keeping in mind what the groundhogs forecasted, this might be a timely poem, but as I type this it’s still cold outside. The windows are hazy. The sun warms little, merely teases. However, snowy, winter woods are lovely, too; and words.

I am afraid to go into the woods, 
I fear the trees and their mad, green moods. 
I fear the breezes that pull at my sleeves, 
The creeping arbutus beneath the leaves, 
And the brook that mocks me with wild, wet words:
I stumble and fall at the voice of birds. 
Think of the terror of those swift showers, 
Think of the meadows of fierce-eyed flowers: 
And the little things with sudden wings 
That buzz about me and dash and dart,
And the lilac waiting to break my heart! 
Winter, hide me in your kind snow, 
I am a coward, a coward, I know!

– Leonora Speyer


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