somewhat belated poetry

There was a m*m* spreading to post some poetry on Candlemas/Groundhog Day. I've been off the computer (at home) much of that time, so just caught up.

Emily posted the "Midwinter spring" bit from Little Gidding, so I'll post another one for this change of seasons - which we feel acutely in Northern California, because it really is when our spring starts. It also connects with my returning to the babysteps of Flylady life-clean and stuff-clean.

Prothalamium
Fifth section of "Astoria" sequence
© Aaron Kramer

Come, all you who are not satisfied
as ruler in a lone, wallpapered room
full of mute birds, and flowers that falsely bloom,
and closets choked with dreams that long ago died!

Come, let us sweep the old streets--like a bride;
sweep out dead leaves with a relentless broom;
prepare for Spring, as though he were our groom
for whose light footstep eagerly we bide.

We'll sweep out shadows, where the rats long fed;
sweep out our shame--and in its place we'll make
a bower for love, a splendid marriage-bed
fragrant with flowers aquiver for the Spring.
And when he comes, our murdered dreams shall wake;
and when he comes, all the mute birds shall sing.