“Could it be?” I ask the dog;
He just wags his tail and grins.
“Could it be?” I ask the bird
High in the tree calling a mate.
Both ignore me, lost in their joy.
The sun spreads a blue sky
Over an anxious Sea
Whipped about by changing tides,
By storms and westerlies.
He shines so warmly and surely
The cold can’t find a spot to hide,
And runs back to Siberia
On the wings of snowy gales,
Back to darkness and silence.
“Could it be?” I ask the sun;
But he is busy clearing out old stories
Coaxing green buds, turning new leaves
Dreaming new dreams far and near.
“Could it be?” I ask the Med.
Still chilled and bruised, she hesitates.
She is hoarse from fighting;
For days she splashed, thrashed,
Spat, roared, and wrestled howling winds.
She twisted her waters, pushed boundaries,
Ravaged and messed her bed of sand,
Pebbles and grasses, as she looked for respite,
For strength renewed, like a fury possessed…
Now she rocks a buoy gently,
Runs curled fingers along green jetties,
Casts a surprised gaze at dislodged
Boulders, destroyed beach walks,
And gaping sink holes.
She stares at garbage and debris
Churned from the deep,
From hidden trenches and forgotten shipwrecks.
“I cannot find my space” she whispers,
Throwing a little lace on rotting sea grass.
Could it be, I ask again.
Green polished sea glass shimmers
In a retreating wave, then disappears
In tumbles of tidal sighs
Wish… wish… wish…
“Is it spring?” I ask the mountain clothed
in green oaks and white heather.
From blue bushes and sienna crags,
On the fragrance of wild rosemary,
She breathes her answer to me:
“It is warmth and light right now
For your soul. Nothing else is certain.”
Yes, yes, yes, chirps a blue tit.
On hot flagstones, the sleepy dog flicks his ears.
At the edge of land the Med hums her troubled quest
As a distant sun follows his path in a blue sky.
unbuttoned or undone 
tell the dog to go show the med how it’s done. eat, play, sleep. I swear, everything could be coming down around them, but if they have a patch of sun to be lazy in, all is right with the world lol. or cats-they would prefer we all sod off !
now as for this here poem–it was mentally animating, and the lace was a nice place to linger 🙂
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Yup, that’s about right! And if the patch of sunlight is in front of a doorway or in the middle of the kitchen floor, it’s super.
Glad you liked the lacy bit dressing up the uglies. 🙂 thank you.
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none of you is ugly 😉
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Such a sweet thing to say. Thank you.
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Ho-rah! If you’re feeling Spring then that means summer is waning here. I want to see the end of it. I want you to have your Spring.
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I appreciate your support John, I really do, but the temps here tonight tell me we are nowhere close to done with winter, But the days are getting warmer between 10 am and 3 pm,.. The mimosas are bursting too… so I don’t know. Sorry to see you sweltering. Love the way you say “I want you to have your Spring.” Sooo earnest. 🙂
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now that’s the type of dog I like. You ask a question and they just wag their tails wondering what is it with this human, can’t they see we are busy.
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Oh yes, I get that look all the time.
It gets a bit insulting when he shakes his head like I don’t get anything at all, and may be I should not be allowed out by myself since I am such a numpty!!
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A couple of weeks ago I asked a shopkeeper if it could possibly be spring. It was above freezing and the air smelled wet. Of course they looked at me and said no. How could it be spring in January in Canada? Well, now it’s even warmer – as high as 15 yesterday – and staying above freezing even at night. Crocuses are pushing out of the ground. Some plants are starting to bud. It sure looks like spring. But we Canadians know winter, so we’re not allowing ourselves to be fooled. We know that impatient crocuses can end up shriveling in the frost. We know that winter has ways of dealing with foolish optimism. So, even if we get out of this one without another lethal blast of arctic air, we know that winter will get us next year.
“It is warmth and light right now
For your soul. Nothing else is certain.”
This is how we look at it. Your poem expressed the longing and uncertainty of February in Canada, too.
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Thank you Jim. It is warmer where you are than here! Wow!
Lots of flowers are out. We had frost once so far this year for about three minutes.
Nothing is really built for the cold here, that’s the biggest problem I think.
And warm clothing is just a concept. Some fashionista figured that if a garment has long sleeves, it’s winter wear, even if you can see through it! So frustrating!
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Got people wearing shorts here.-)
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Like the blue people in Florida, huh? They can brave the cold in shorts, T shirt and flip-flops because, well, it’s FL and you don’t need sweaters in Florida, duh!
Or is it so warm, that it’s justified?
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It might be warm enough to justify it for them, or maybe their long pants were in the wash. As for me, I’m still wearing my jacket when I go out, but not the scarf. Today it’s only forecast to reach 10 degrees.
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🙂
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Glad I made you smile nannus. For a certainty!
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I love your poems about “the sun” and “the med”. You should collect them into a book.
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I think I will. 🙂
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Oh my, that anthropomorphism of the Med… I feel her moody nature, her tumultuous ways… Wonderful.
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Thank you. She is all feminine angel and demon, passionate or serene, but never half-hearted…. irresistible, delightful, bountiful, a unique, magical body of water, and a muse!
How lucky can I be?
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Wake up, Emm. It’s only February. You’re dreaming again. 🙂
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Aww! It was such a nice dream…
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