I am a hunter
of fiddleheads and spruce tips
for a spring salad
in this time of snow still melting
on the north side of the hill
and leaves not yet raked up
at the edges of my lawn
this is the time of running sap
of mud
of crocuses deciding
it is finally true spring
and not the slow striptease
of dying winter
I am a woman of all seasons
but the promise/false hope
of all this softening
this budding
holds me
**** the NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to tell a story over time, with digressions. Well, all of my poetry does that. Here’s a stream of consciousness that meanders. Hopefully nothing dams it.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Seems rather un-dammed to me! Enjoyed the use of the haiku to start your spring meander.
False hope gets us every spring 🙂
I have struggled with haiku syllable counts, etc., forever. Seriously, SM, that haiku up there? I didn’t know I did that until you told me I did. How the HELL did that happen?
You are clearly a natural! 🙂
Without coffee yet, too. LOL. My subconscious gets the credit for the haiku this time.
It is so worth the wait, isn’t it?
Yes, it is!
I really feel the life bubbling through this poem. Isn’t fiddleheads a lovely word ? Great work
Thankd! I love the way the word rolls around your mouth as you speak it ☺