Tag Archives: spring

For My Husband on His Birthday (or, of winter and waiting)

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This winter lasts, but our time moves steadily from its first unfolding,
and we find ourselves in the already but not yet
of the journey.  Green plants push through dirt
beneath the frozen snow.  Sunlight shines through windows
covered with a long winter’s filmy grime.  We wait for warmth
and wait for wisdom.  We are in Easter’s Advent, praying, listening.
The cardinals have returned to the barren forsythia, looking, flitting
from branch to twig to ground, searching.

Perhaps we are a nesting pair, arriving, looking, searching,
putting all energy into choosing, collecting, building, and then,
hoping.  What will this next spring surprise us with?  A lush garden,
a field of wildflowers?  A new truth?

For now silence may fall with the snow
while we remain steadfast and full of hope.

Winter Strawberries

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Backing down the drive we see snow and sleet on the cold stones and grass,
evidence of winter’s long-clutching grasp on Ohio.

We head to church, the grocery, back to church school,
and finally home where we hang coats, store mittens, and wash hands.

We dice red onion and cooked chicken,
slice black olives and grape tomatoes.
We layer the crust with olive oil, basil, mozzarella,
and all of our dicing and slicing while the oven heats.

The tomato bisque is ladled into glass bowls,
and the leafy salad arranged on ceramic plates.
There is talk of croutons and pizza,
strawberries and yogurt, and even melted chocolate.

Our little ones have already eaten a bakery cookie and a fruit-laden cereal bar,
but they come to the table anyway and tell us how they would design their menus and present their dishes.

The littlest one asks to read “The Little Red Caboose” before nap time,
and as I near the end, he presses his cheek to mine, his strawberry breath forcing my mind toward spring.