Linda Pastan – Spring Music


Linda Pastan
Spring Music

In the no man’s land
of early April
each leaf,

repeats a single
green note.

One spring
the next.

These flowering
bushes –
their pinked petals

like the curved eyelids
of the newborn –
will only seem to die.

The small
powder puffs of cloud
will blow away –

so much dandelion fluff –
but will return
like recurring dreams.

And another generation
of lost birds
will simply

hide their songs
in anonymous nests.

for the thorough bass
of the bullfrogs, for the plucked strings
of the spring peepers.

Though trees grow bare
each winter to the tips
of every branch,

in the cathedral
of air
the music lingers.