Tuesday, April 23, 2013


Trampled crocus,
half-green grass,
bitter wind:
spring stays at half mast,
requires more

Pictures were taken under grey skies by a windy sea in West Quoddy this morning.  I wrote the poem--if we can call this ditty by such an elevated name--while sitting by the fire. Yes, it's that cold. Pity the lobstermen, who begin to haul their traps today.

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