Despite the Spring
by Gary Hardaway
and the blue abundance
of sky and bluebonnets photographed
and shared along the interwebs
and that vibrant pitch of green
the young Shumard leaves
throw to any eyes that catch it
and the sway of heavy yellow daffodils
and bird chirps and mad dash of squirrels
across streets pursuing mates
and the thick crust of dew-infused
pollen across windshields
and the cheerful sniffles and sneezes
he remains resolute in his misanthropy
inspired by recurrent disappointment.
The scarred heart pumps its viscous blood.
My, such a contrast. Such happiness and so sad. And so true. *
*
*, Gary. Yes, despite the lovely Texas spring...
All the best spring poems are anti-spring. *