<< Originally published (online) in August 2020 at the Constellate Literary Journal, but substantially revised and presented here for sharing at this afternoon’s (3PM EDT) Open Link Live event at dVerse Poets Pub…
———[||]———
On The Edge Of Green
It’s finally almost the middle of May
and I know I should be obsessed
with the recently vanished snow,
the slow green appearing everywhere,
the chickadee mornings and the likely
arrival of goldfinches at feeders.
……………………………………………………………..Here,
where there’s often no Spring to speak of,
no noticeable warming of soil, only mud
and more mud and more; here, where
the morning air is only an unmet promise
of primrose and peony,
……………………………………………..I should just be
thankful, I guess; glad to be alive amid
impending fields that will bear green corn
a month or two from now, that will show
no sign that winter ever was.
……………………………………………………….I suppose
I should be happy just to inhale the season;
to concentrate on fledglings, on treelines,
and on beckoning haylofts; to live a quiet life
on the edge of green, where everything’s
only just
……………….almost.
—————[|||]—————
dVerse Poets Pub
Open Link Night
~ OLN Live #292 ~
———[||]———
Scrambled, Not Fried 
Intriguing closure … title a hint, but still …
Two sides to any edge, and possibilities almost always lure me over. Could Spring 2021 be indecisive? Maybe knows more than we do of what’s coming come summer?
Spoken like a farmer anxiously awaiting planting time!
Sounds like the midwest, no mountains, or deep forests, lor ocean beaches, “where corn grow as high as an elephant’s eye.”
Personally, I’m content with “everything’s only just almost” because it leaves so many surprises and unexpected joy. A lovely poem, Ron.
This is incredibly powerful, Ron! I especially like; “the chickadee mornings and the likely arrival of goldfinches at feeders,” and was deeply moved after hearing you read. 💝💝
I enjoyed your read today …. my father also died in May, the 4th. I was sixteen going on seventeen … still feel the hurt.
Apologies, I juxtaposed you and Rob … Why is it you two remind me of each other …. and I assure you THAT is a compliment.
‘To live a quiet life on the edge of green’- sigh, so beautiful Ron.
A quiet life…that sounds good to me. (K)
Great poem Ron. I guess you must be discussing retirement!! :>)
Lovely poem Ron, a touch of resignation maybe, beautifully crafted…JIM
Sorry to boast, but we have so much green I ought to send you some, Ron, but ‘slow green’ wins the race and mud everywhere is a good sign. 😊 I love the phrase ‘inhale the season’, which I have been doing a lot since our early honeysuckle bloomed.
…the edge of green… nice imagery and certainly a feeling we can all relate to at one time or other. Peace~Jason
That pause at the end is great. Anticipation.
Actually, the whole last stanza. The time you have left weighed against something nascent.
I like the layout of the poem and how the words on the edge form the sentence, “Here, I should just be, I suppose, almost” We are always on the edge of a new beginning. The edge is a good place to live! ❤
Ron,
I love the honesty in this. Often I have thought, “I should feel happy or grateful or excited.” Feelings just are and I have been learning to let them be, to accept them. This a lovely write, as well as, a wonderful topic. Transitions are part of living a connection between this and the next. Thanks for your poem.
Ali
A lovely poem, Ron. That almost and the sort of resignation–almost wistful perhaps.