All In Spring

My spring was all in February.

My crisp sunny days, my new-leaf-green and baseball, it was all over months ago

In the two-week flash of warmth within the rain.

My spring was all in February. My official hibernation’s end,

Me emergence from the shell into the world again

It was contained in those days of the barely-born year, singular.

My spring was all in February. It was the mind-set,

It was the way we stopped wishing for snow and started wishing for sun,

Stopped recalling the summer and started planning for it.

My spring was all in February, this year. My Opening Day was two months ago.

My spring has come and gone and now I sit and wait through this interim,

This summer that doesn’t know it’s summer yet, that still battles with the rain,

Patiently remaining through a storm not spring-fresh but summer-heavy. Summer-dull.

My spring was all in February. My spring was three days in an open field,

My spring was all alive in a spark of cloudless skies

And six separate laughs.

My spring was all in February, this year. My summer started then.

By the time the sun stretches out wide enough to embrace us, again,

It will already be fall.

XXX--