To The Thawing Wind

Not even three weeks ago snow covered the ground in my part of the world. Last night I mowed my lawn for the first time this year. The transition from Winter to Spring seems to happen so quickly around here. The first advances are made by the daffodils and tulips which sometimes actually brave the snow to send their green spears skyward before blooming. People are next to emerge like dandelions from their houses and once again they begin to populate the yards, garages and parks in my neighborhood. The sap is finally flowing in the trees and apparently in the people too.

I always think about Robert Frost's poem "To The Thawing Wind" at this time of year:

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!

Bring the singer, bring the nester;

Give the buried flower a dream;

Make the settled snowbank steam;

Find the brown beneath the white;

But whate'er you do tonight,

Bathe my window, make it flow,

Melt it as the ices go;

Melt the glass and leave the sticks

Like a hermit's crucifix;

Burst into my narrow stall;

Swing the picture on the wall;

Run the rattling pages o'er;

Scatter poems on the floor;

Turn the poet out of door.