Almost April
The gloom of winter is nearly now gone,
but summer still sleeps,
not quite ready for her big entrance.
This is spring, and she’s still young,
so, satisfied, we capture
bits of today’s breezy brilliance,
enlivened by the simple pleasure of it all,
grateful for this good day.
It might actually be a good day,
nothing too grand, nor magical,
simply a few hours of quiet enjoyment,
some idle conversation with the neighbors,
a sisterly Sunday phone call on the patio,
cheered by the crisp sunlight of late March,
hands shielding eyes against the glare,
smelling the ocean in the thin clouds,
as the last of the foothills snow melts.
Melting snow cannot mute
the hopeful sounds of passersby,
as baseball season is upon them,
the dark days of busted brackets behind,
still a rosy outlook for the local heroes,
not yet time for clever analysis,
of what went wrong this time.
There’ll be time later for the reality of defeats,
their shadows eclipsing summer’s bright sun.
Today is a time for hope.
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