spring
Spring
the first winter, after a long war, was cold
today snow was slushy, the beginning of spring
a poor street, houses
had not been painted for years
not much foo, the ice was reluctant to let go
of its pale grasp
It was then I saw a wall of flaking paint
a solitary yellow flower, the color so bright it
blinded me
I had a moment of clarity, I understood
and saw it all
In the windows of old houses, curtains
and sills
flowers in pots of empty tins
humanities need for beauty
I must not forget, hastened home to write
the wonder of life.
So long ago now, spring 1948
people were friendly back then we had suffered
together and survived
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