Spring will come.  Even though today the sky is gray, the grass is brown and the remnants of ice and snow are flung across our pathway.  Spring will come.  One day soon you will open your door and hear a Meadow Lark calling from the fence row. The fragrance of fresh-turned soil and a hint of sweet clover will awaken your senses to a new season.

Spring will come.  Just as God promised Noah after the ark had landed on Mt. Ararat.  After Noah opened the door of the huge boat and let the animals trot, slither, pad and fly out over the new landscape, he built an altar and thanked God for saving them.  And God looked down at this righteous man and said, “I will not again curse the ground any more for man’s sake; for the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more every living thing, as I have done.  While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.”

Spring will come; just as summer and autumn and winter will follow.  The grass will grow; the dandelions will cover the lawn like gold pieces thrown by a mischievous leprechaun; the mighty morels will begin pushing last year’s leaves aside and new born calves will frolic beside placid mothers.  The tiny chipping sparrows will begin building their nests in the evergreens around the porch.  A wren will begin hopping in and out of various birdhouses and a pair of bluebirds will inspect last year’s house to see if it is livable.

Spring will come.  School children will grow restless and neglect their lessons as they gaze out the window at soft summer clouds against a clear blue sky.  Joe’s hands will unconsciously curl as though holding the handlebars of a bicycle flying down the street toward a ball diamond.  Susie will think of picnics with her friends; making pretend pies of mud and sprinkling them with clover blossoms and grass clippings.  Even the teacher has a faraway look in her eye as she anticipates quiet days and lazy summer mornings.

Spring will come.  Winter will end as it does every year.  So, find a good book; snuggle up by the stove and wait a while.



About dswan2

Poet, author, columnist, lyricist, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, wife of 50 years. Born and raised in America's Heartland
This entry was posted in Country, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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