A Spring Poem

Bright hues of orange and lime, pink and lavender unfurl
against a canvas of fresh white, like the opening young leaves
of the Forsythia outside the window, where I gaze for a moment,
looking up from the methodical, plodding foot of my sewing machine.

The cheep-cheep of the House Sparrow that has taken up residence
under the feeders and who is now peck-pecking at the hearts of Sunflower seeds
fills my thoughts with Springtime and the duplicity of weather that comes with it,
sudden rainstorms; bright moments of sun; still-frosty mornings and warming afternoons.

Sewing brightly-colored, whimsical eggs for Easter for no one but myself,
I am taking pleasure in the quiet time--boy is at school and daughter is dreaming
of the bunnies in the book we read together last night, and for now I hear nothing but
the dip-dip-dip of my needle and the cheep-cheep of the sparrow and I am smiling.