SPRING DAY
Today, the sky is the soft blue
of a work shirt washed a thousand times.
"The journey of a thousand miles
begins with a single step."
I think I've driven into spring,
the top down on my convertible,
as the woods revive in lime green.
Redbud trees wear gauzy scarves over bare limbs.
Stores are going out of business,
like the one that sold prayer flags
and sandals and jeans that really fit—
And where do we fit in?
How can we get up in the morning,
wondering what may happen? But we do.
We put one foot in front of the other,
get the paper out on the lawn, make coffee,
watch the steam curl up and disappear. Achoo!
Just yesterday, I read Li Po:
"There is no end to things in the heart,"
but it seems like things are always ending—
spring wildflowers or childhood,
good books, the bowl of raspberries, road trips.
On the interstate listening to NPR,
I heard a Hubble scientist say,
"The universe is not only stranger than we think,
it's stranger than we can think."
Barely doing fifty, I pass an RV trailer
called Glory Bound, and aren't we all?
Toward evening, while the sky turns red violet,
then lavender, peach, a box of spilled crayons,
the moon spills its milk on the black tabletop
for the thousandth time.
G'night. Kaputt. The end. Peace.
Tags: Austin Spring Poetry Poem Day Peace
