Friday, March 27, 2009

Maybe it's spring. I'm not sure.
I can't smell it in the air, I can't see it.
I certainly don't feel it when I bundle up
in my scarf and coat every time I leave the house.
A pot of chives on my porch is sending up
tentative spikes, tender tender. Wary.
My rosemary displays only death, grey & crackling.
Evergreen thyme, which has hunkered into itself all winter,
exists still in its own limbo. I snipped a few sprigs last night
to add to andouille & rice along with a scratching
of dried oregano, a sneeze of cayenne.
The worn-out season lingers, a groggy bear
who's used up every ounce of stored fat.
Wake up!

1 comment:

  1. Thanks, T! Your words were just what I needed to wake up to this morning. I love the sneeze of chives and rosemary, too are behaving just as yours are. My poor rosemary! Completely winter-scorched...irretrievable? We'll see.