April Wakes Up

This month of April wriggled her way
out of the shivering dream of the dark and icy
ocean of winter that drifted far too long
away from the shores where the sun
knew how to bring us home.

This bundle of daffodils
and rain on the roof
rocks me, comforted
like a blanket.

Joy here is a fleece jacket
instead of down coat;
bare toes in sandles
and legs sans black tights;
and leaves raked away
from the mole pocked yard
making ready for the first mowing.

Garden gloves are at the ready
near the garage door
with the clippers
and mud boots
are obvious
and necessary footwear.

We must awaken to the red flowering maples
and the green we can only see this last week
of the month where everything is alive
with the buzz and peeping of the world.

A Poem About Green for my Unborn Granddaughter

Tonight
in a circle of women
I have decided to write
a poem to you
about green.

This color
of waving young pines
is my favorite color
especially in early April
in Vermont.

Green dances in sun
near the setting time
and birds are looking
for the night's sheltered places.

Tonight
in a circle of women
I have started to knit
a small blanket
full of wisdom
the color
of the beloved sea.

Beloved,
you will know the sea
like the waters in which you swim
and grow inside your mother's womb.
This wild and peaceful darkness
is all the home you will ever want

until you walk on grass green with spring
and pluck peas from their pods
into your open mouth.

Then green will be everything
that twirls and tumbles
into eventual dust of understanding
and more love than any mossy tomb can hold.

Some night soon
in a circle of love,
enfolded in the soft woolen comfort
stiched with whispered prayers
offered just for you,
you will hear the magic of singing peepers
and the gentle rain pattering on the cool earth
and dream of daffodils and crocus
blooming in the Green Mountains
and the Amma calling you into this life.