I Was Born In Spring
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[today is my birthday. this is my birthday poem to myself]
I was born
in the spring of the year—
a New England spring,
that comes only with reluctance—
a damp, gray chill
that clings to its pewter skies
and blustery winds,
unwilling to yield its frigid grip—
until the day,
that day in the middle of May
when I drew my first breath on this planet—
a breath of gentle air, perfumed with the heady scent of lilacs,
where triumphal shafts of blessed sunlight
bathed a world gushing with the birth waters
of a greening, bursting, exuberant earth,
trumpeting her joy in a torrent of birdsong.
I was born
in the spring of the year—
and even in the snowy silence
of a New England winter,
I shelter within myself
the glorious fragrance
of petals unfolding.
Copyright © Katharine L. Sparrow | Year Posted 2023
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