False Spring

What a week – sunshine, shirtsleeves and more on the way. Though we all needed a break from winter, I can’t quite buy in. Veteran of 60+ North Country winters, I know it ain’t over until it’s over, and over it ain’t. Sigh. April really is the cruelest month and it isn’t even April yet. We’re in a second false spring as well. Our COVID numbers are better than they’ve been since the fall. But winter is not the only thing that ain’t over until it’s over.

Lilac buds. Lovely, but alas, doomed in March. Photo: oddharmonic, Creative Commons, some rights reserved

False Spring

Warm all week since the equinox. Blessedly sunny
until this morning. The snow has melted all away,
almost as if it had never been. Snowdrops bloom,
lilacs bud. So easy to be taken in, to cut loose again.

And now steady rain saturates the thawed soil. All day
it drums on the roof, waxing louder then waning softer,
as the thunderstorms come and go. Did I not know
better, this could be the end of North Country winter.

A mourning dove hoots softly from the apple tree.
Gray squirrels race each other through the side yard, 
up and down the gray, bare trees, frantic as tweekers.
Who wouldn’t love this moment, free of COVID winter?

Even though the forecast predicts days more the same,
I can’t shake off my foreboding. Winter bides its time,
raising false hopes in false spring. I won’t be fooled again.
The sleety snows of April would be twice as hard to bear.

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