March 7, 2011

March Melt


The rain rattled the house all night, washing the snow lakeward, and in the morning I lifted Buckaroo to the window so he could see the bare, bashful patches of dirt, leaves, and acorn caps. He announced, "Spring is coming," and I said, "Let it be so."


Daughter, Walking Ahead

1 comment:

LA said...

That's a beautiful poem.