The peepers have started up
all at once, it seems,
as if they’ve waited for this very evening
to erupt in song –
their chorus fills the woods up and down the creek.
Fireflies emerge
but more hesitantly.
My eye is drawn to random green flickers
here and there above the grass.
In spite of Spring life eagerly bursting forth
the weather is predictably moody –
sudden tossing winds,
temperatures warming then plunging.
The rain – always beneficial for the soil –
yet not always received with enthusiasm.
The geese patrol the house-barn-creek-woods-pasture
regardless of the weather.
When the rain falls they stand and bask
occasionally shaking their feathers
before resuming their vigil,
sounding off as they go,
exciting our cockatiel as they pass by,
who shrieks along with them from her perch inside –
piercing our eardrums.
In the morning
Jonquils unfurl their bright green spears
allowing frilly yellow flowers
to shine in the sun.
I can hear the calves complaining
behind the parlor,
ready for their morning milk.
Through the woods I watch a pregnant sow
as she picks her way down the slope
to drink from a trough,
her teats hanging down.
Soon she’ll succumb
to her litter of piglets –
a dozen or more tiny shivering bodies
climbing her prone and exhausted form
in search of her nipples.
Ah, the newness, the moodiness,
the bounty of Spring!
