The following poem was published in The Weekly Avocet.
*Note*
Dearest Readers, I started out writing a note to some friends. But the following is what emerged. I’ve no idea why. I was listening to the morning news and weather.
I’m just sending it like it happened.
Good morning, everyone.
I hope you’re doing well.
Here, the coffee is hot. The weather is rainy but not, and that’s the way we like it.
The rain was no problem. It fell like a mist.
The air was cold,
but not quite as crisp.
Spring, she’s a comin’
a comin’ for sure.
When she does,
we’re gonna embrace her,
embrace her with love.
Wind still sings and whistles,
round corners and trees.
Shakin’ the branches,
drop pin’ their leaves.
Spring,
she’s comin’ for sure.
how do I know?
Just look at my dog’s fur.
Shedding,
piling up,
flying here and there.
Just look at that would you?
It’s everywhere.
Spring,
spring she’s a comin’
she’s comin’ for sure,
but wait! Wait!
Old man winter, he’s got one more.
He’s blasting round,
wind, rain, mud.
Fire, snow, earthquake,
famine, flood.
Death, blood.
Spring,
spring, she’s a comin’
She’s comin’ for sure.
Patty L. Fletcher
Bridging the great chasm which separates the disAbled from the non-disAbled
Kingsport Tennessee, 37660
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Patty L. Fletcher
Bridging the great chasm which separates the disAbled from the non-disAbled