Another Spring
by Carol Hamilton
I know the wild weeds
that will come come primavera,
fiercely awakened, triumphant,
unconquerable they will seem,
and yet, if my strength returns
I will start again
the battle to make space
for a bit of order,
an abundance of color
and fruits to pick
and share for one more season.
There is no mystery
to the overwhelming sense
of how small two hands are,
how one day untended
turns to chaos, and yet.
the sun on morning shoulders,
fingers dirt-coated and probing,
we go at it again, I uncomforted
with artificial air or light
or amusement. The telephone
is only a lifeline in the pocket,
the day only an added blessing.
that will come come primavera,
fiercely awakened, triumphant,
unconquerable they will seem,
and yet, if my strength returns
I will start again
the battle to make space
for a bit of order,
an abundance of color
and fruits to pick
and share for one more season.
There is no mystery
to the overwhelming sense
of how small two hands are,
how one day untended
turns to chaos, and yet.
the sun on morning shoulders,
fingers dirt-coated and probing,
we go at it again, I uncomforted
with artificial air or light
or amusement. The telephone
is only a lifeline in the pocket,
the day only an added blessing.
Carol Hamilton taught second grade through graduate school in Connecticut, Indiana, and Oklahoma, and was a medical translator and storyteller. She is a former Poet Laureate of Oklahoma and has published 17 books (children's novels, legends, and poetry), and she has been nominated nine times for a Pushcart Prize.