Open Windows

...a poem about false hope in spring

Photo by Brigitte Ledermann

We have flung open windows,
though it is still cold; forgotten
our gloves in the pockets of 
bigger coats.

We have set out earlier, 
come home later,
as if the days are longer 
and not just lighter.

We have counted our chickens;
daffodils in hedgerows, blackbirds in pairs,
three consecutive days without rain.
We have adjusted our clocks;
sacrificed an hour to this seasonal God.

The sky looks somehow bigger now,
though the horizon hasn’t shifted.
The sky looks somehow hopeful now, 
though the news 
still 
drops 
its 
daily 
kills
at our door, 
like a cat.

---

The Tideline

I was commissioned to write a poem about Spring (more on that later!). I wrote a few and this is one they didn’t choose. It’s about fool’s spring and the false hope offered at this time of year.

I am a poet, author and journalist looking for defiant hope in the intersections between nature and culture. If you enjoyed this poem, subscribe for more…

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