Poem on the First Day of Spring

Poem on the First Day of Spring

Everyone should write a spring poem.
Never, in the way of the Great Poets,
have I yearned to find myself in the domain of Nature,
rising, while first buds stud the trees,
to burst into a woman, open to the season.
Such anguish as it laid bare in them
I pity every famous ancient. Yes,
I despise their assumption: that we begin again in Spring.
Love, it is April, first light.
Listen, the birds, returned, pluck out ancient melodies.
Leave the shades drawn, let night stall in our bed.
Turn to me, naked, in no new way at all
but rolling our seasons into one, nameless.
How many years have we perfected this? Countless.
Losing track, each time is last, delicious, perilous.

Peter Cooley

Poem on the First Day of Spring

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Scroll to top