Spring, As Usual

tempts me to the barbeque hootch
in the back yard, traps me there
between the drum of rain
on the plastic roof
and the smoke of charring steaks.
Six minutes per side of beef;
nothing to do but sit
like a neighborhood cat
in the canvas chair, spatula
in one hand; bubbles
in the other. For the first time
I notice how our backyard is like
being inside a green glass jar,
how the wind shakes the pear and
cherry blossoms in wind spirals of petals,
how flocks of kinglets with their high,
distant voices never stop commenting
on their aerial world and the worth
of bud burst.

–Sandy Brown Jensen
Last April 2011 sometime
Notes retrieved from my journal

One thought on “Spring, As Usual”

  1. ah, this is a sweet poem. I can put myself right there beside you. And yes, your backyard is like being inside a green glass jar. It makes me happy when you write poetry. I am now inspired to paint my third and largest peonie watercolor. Stay tuned. crl

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