when the weather breaks

Spring is an egg, chipped
and spilling rain (not the blue
robin’s egg we know, but
the gray marble sky reflected
in the nests of house sparrows).

Impatient, we pace,
count steamed breath,
wait for weather to break, for what stirs
under that shell
to split one morning open,
becoming summer.

About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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27 Responses to when the weather breaks

  1. unfetteredbs says:

    will it ever be summer?

  2. So lovely … summer’s coming 🙂

  3. jomul7 says:

    Having grown up in an area where Sun and green life are taken for granted, it’s only being by here in this different climate that I started appreciating this notion of rebirth and renewal and this poem speaks to that. Great picture too! 🙂

  4. Miriam E. says:

    simply beautiful.

  5. nelle says:

    Cool today, 78° by Thursday. More please!

  6. mobius faith says:

    Really cool comparison.

  7. Great analogy. The rains have started here too 🙂

    • 😉

      Now, I am not going to complain about rain. Last summer we had drought, so we need every drop we can get. However, I need it to stop so I can work some soil and do some planting.

      • You really love the earth. I hate gardening, never done one before and I’m just wondering how I’m going to keep the flowers and plants in our new home we will be moving to.

        • Hee, hee. I came to this love late. I hated working in the garden my parents had, hated getting my hands dirty. When I was in college studying botany for a semester, I nearly failed my lab, having killed my seed germination exercise three times. What I like about outside gardening is the creative (in all sense of the word) force of growing things. However, I can’t grow flowers for flowers’ sake alone–it has to be vegetable matter, or I will surely kill it. Go figure…

  8. Alice Keys says:

    I like the sky breaking open like an egg. Are we on the inside or the outside of the shell?

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