May 13, 2013 by northerncardinalreview
A thrush pipes me up the hill.
Green is all around,
the slanted sun behind.
The path bends into a glade—
And there, knee deep in May apples,
romp like puppies at play.
They crouch, spring,
chase in small circles,
suddenly stop, eye one another,
white flags flicking,
leap and bound again.
“Come now,” I mutter. “What if mothers,
knitting and watching at the park,
flung their needles from their laps
and frolicked among the violets
with daisies in their hair?
What would become of us then?”
“Ah, but February’s ice
has dripped and gurgled away.
Our fawns curl
in the dappled grass.
The world is a salad.”
Randy Minnich is a retired research chemist and chemistry professor. He now focuses on writing, environmental issues, t’ai chi, and grandchildren. He is a member of the Pittsburgh (PA) Poetry Society and the Squirrel Hill Poetry Workshop and has published two books, Wildness in a Small Place and Pavlov’s Cats: Their Story. His poetry has appeared in Main Street Rag, Pearl, Pudding, Snowy Egret, Blueline, and other publications.