We’re pretty much over winter at this point. It’s been a rough one. Bitterly cold, stealing our precious, precious heat with negative billion wind chill (idk exact numbers, that’s what it feels like), slicking the sidewalks with ice, bringing a Polar Vortex no one even invited.
Enough of that.
Let’s look forward to what’s coming. Spring is around the corner and bringing with it soft rains, blooming flowers, jacket weather, and the smell of growing things. Let this spring also be about hope, personal growth, new beginnings, and all manner of euphemisms that describe what spring means to us besides the earth thawing and Persephone returning from the underworld . And we can start it all off on a bookish note.
Here are some spring poems to brighten your day.
Spring is Like a Perhaps Hand by E.E. Cummings
Spring is like a perhaps hand
out of Nowhere) arranging
a window, into which people look (while
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and
changing everything carefully
Spring Poem for the Sake of Breathing by James Masao Mitsui
The sky wants the water to turn grey,
but if I notice how waves
play with the clumps of yellow flags,
or the way turtles share logs,
or even try to understand a friend’s decision
to walk onto a glacier
and end her life—I will be ready
for any poems that have been waiting.
The spring haze.
The scent already in the air.
The moon and ume.
Instructions on Not Giving Up by Ada Limón
More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me.
I Have This Way of Being by Jamaal May
I have this, and this isn’t a mouth
full of the names of odd flowers
I’ve grown in secret.
I know none of these by name
but have this garden now,
and pastel somethings bloom
near the others and others.
Come to Me Here from Crete by Sappho
Come to me here from Crete,
To this holy temple, where
Your lovely apple grove stands,
And your altars that flicker
Two Sewing by Hazel Hall
The Wind is sewing with needles of rain.
With shining needles of rain
It stitches into the thin
Cloth of earth. In,
In, in, in.
Oh, the wind has often sewed with me.
One, two, three.
Gather by Rose McLarney
Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.
And if spring and all its optimism is really not your thing, Edna St. Vincent Millay’s got you, and you can check out our summer and winter versions if you want to look back or even further ahead in the seasons. What are your favorite spring poems?