- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Spring # 2
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Say, have you noticed that the wind is rising,
the tiny sound of grasses, yellow, dry,
like distant water through a sandy bed,
shallow and smooth? It means there will be rain
soon, slow, unruffled, cold at first, but still
you'd better go. It won't be here as yet;
no raincoat's needed now. Or you could stay;
who would be missing you? Admittedly,
sometimes it's wise to fly before the wet
wild warring winds, sometimes it's just as well
to go indoors and stay; you might fall ill
out in the open fields... But hibernation
should only last one winter, never grow
habitual. The air grows stale too soon,
the lair turns filthy when the hour is past
and you may miss faint noises from outside
that try to tell you one more year is on;
you will not feel the spring's first breeze, its hint
of sun, nor see the timid trees change hues -
say, have you noticed - ?
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