where I long to be . . .

On a winding trail
lined with ragged pine trees,
I paused to watch the unfurling of spring.
Fiddlehead ferns sprang upright
under mid-day sun that cast no heat
as a too-early wakened bumble bee
tried to shake hidden pollen from me.
(I’m told this is complimentary – I quite disagree!)
Red-winged blackbirds looking for mates
laid claim to cattails round the still pond,
a built-in early warning system
for the snoozing beaver clan.
I drew in great gulps
of fresh spring air
and thought how blessed I was to be there.

Day 2 NaPaWriMo challenged us to write a poem about a specific place with lots of detail. I’m missing being out on the hiking trails during this time of COVID close-down. Stay safe and healthy out there folks. Only let the bumble bees invade your space.

2 thoughts on “where I long to be . . .

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