(A Week Before) Spring Cleaning

broom

Inverted brooms the naked trees appear,
with sturdy handle trunks and limbs that form
expanding vees against an atmosphere
begun to steam as sunshine follows storm.
The calendar says spring will not begin
for seven days and some, but weather keeps
a calendar no more than I within,
so trees and I are sprung to vernal sweeps.

I long to clean my dwelling, room by room.
I yearn to wash the windows, and I lust
to wipe and whisk and oil. With my broom
I’ll clear detritus; with my rag I’ll dust.
(This plan adorns the morning, but it pales
beneath the melon clouds that sunset sails.)

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry, Weather. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s