Spring didn’t used to come on
like gang busters too hot, too soon
and stay without relief for the summer
or if it did, it would be a one or two day fluke
followed by a return to freezing temperatures
lots of rain, sleet, late snowfalls in April
early May and then gradually a thawing
as warmth ambled its way back around
usually sometime after you’d given up on it
Something I then failed to appreciate
was just how l o n g you had to wait
chop more ice, shovel more snow
for spring to s l o w l y
emerge from mud season
no matter how big a fan of winter you were
by the time a sunny, mild enough day
to sit outside without gloves and a winter coat
finally came along
you couldn’t help but feel a little glad
watching the ice begin to break up
along the shore, moving water reappear
the birds would return before the black flies
and the only snow still around
would be the biggest plow piles
in the back of parking lots
when you put your car snow shovel away
it wasn’t in March, but late April maybe
In a climate sense, those were the days
gone now, leaving me to mourn
the harm done, still being done
to my beloved sacred places
this bit of land, lake, sky overhead
earth we need to survive
Joanne Holdridge lives in Devens, MA, but spends as much of the winter as she
can skiing the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Before she was able to devote her winters to skiing, she taught poetry and literature courses to ESL students at Bunker Hill Community College for three decades.