Waiting for Spring

Chill April blows green
winds that advise the patience of Buddhas
waiting quietly on
warm rays of the
sun, destined to ripen fruit.
It matters not where we stand
or sit as we
imagine that we will eat
warm, sweet fruits from the
tree. I smile
as I contemplate the prospect and
plan a garden for a small spit
of land slightly out
of sight. Too bad the
cold still chatters my teeth!

 

This poem is in a form called “The Golden Shovel” invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, “The Golden Shovel.” The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem “We Real Cool.” I used a short poem by Charles Simic suggested on the NaPoWriMo site called “Watermelons”. If you read the last word of each line of my poem, you’ll be reading Simic’s entire poem 🙂
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