Portland, Spring 2022

Spring comes anyway.

Yellow leads the way, the dainty daffodils

bobbing their little trumpets in the breeze

like a Mardi Gras parade.

Spring is active, a newly toned muscle

Full of colorful determination

And melodious strength.

Green startles the eye as the gray world begins

To come alive.

The pink blossoms mix on the sidewalk like confetti with

Cigarette butts and needles.

Spring pushes up through cracks in the sidewalk,

Crowds out graffiti and torn tents.

The rain feels balmy instead of cold.

Spring in Oregon is fragrant, frothy, and abundant.

An embarrassment of riches, really.

Spring looks forward,

Never back.

And we emerge too,

looking at each other again,

naked faced

After the longest winter of our lives.

Spring cares not about

Car jackings, shootings, and pandemics–

Spring comes anyway

On terms and time all her own.

War can be raging, stocks plunging.

And we can throw at it everything

In our ugly arsenal.

And still, in spite, or maybe because

Of these things,

Spring still comes.