The plum trees signal
leave the cave,
their delicate pink buds
brave enough to face
the last winds of winter.
From the wet ground
new life slowly rises,
the comfort below
shed like an old cloak
for what waits unseen
in the colors of spring.
photograph by Sandy Brown Jensen
Thanks Don — what simple elegance!
Don, this is an appropriate reflection on the day after a group of friends gathered in Annapolis for the remembrance of John McCoy.
New life is slowly rising…rebirth!
Love the opening line, following the olive trees signal into a new season now being born, trading the old cloak for a coat of many colours. Great little poem, Don. Thank you.
The “waited unseen” has captured me today, Don — that which will accompany spring and the ensuing colour. I have to sit with this awhile… I still need the cloak around these shoulders in our bright white winter days, but I am right behind you and will catch up, my brother! Beautiful ode to this change of cycle on our horizon.
I find this winter darkness allows me to shed the cloaks of others, those psychological errors and regrets others have expressed to me can leave now. The purge of clean snow, melting the mistakes away.
No thought of Spring in Montana mid-winter, the old cloak protecting the harshness yet—perhaps until May. Patience is key.
Lovely, Don. A poetic harbinger of what is to come here on the front range of Colorado in a couple of months. Thank you!