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From days that look like dishwater
Spring extends her little green arms
Coddles us in bright midday skies
And everything seems like it will be okay
Spring’s soil bears silken delusion
A single yellow bud
And we lean gladly into her
Because maybe tomorrow will be the day she turns into Summer
Ceremonially, we shed our layers
It’s her sunlight that makes us brave
Heavy coats sleep on their hangers and we walk home without gloves
Baring sad pale skin, Winter’s hideous gift
And Winter watches, disliking us
Spring’s cruel sister, Spring’s cruel shadow
She smiles her sour old spectacled smile
And prepares to mock our bare-armed optimism
Because Winter has never been afraid of Spring,
Her rain will sodden Spring’s hoodless head
Her wind will still swallow umbrellas, run her terrible fingers through hair, steal balloons from children
Spring has one of those kind faces: too easy to touch, to smear
Yet we straggle on in candied Springtime stupor
(It is the season for straggling on)
For whilst we know some days her bad twin will seethe and pick and mutter
She waits for us, patient and sweet
In blackberries, in pollen, in foresight and in sighs
Under trees where all is still
Spring is there, she squeezes our hand
And everything will be okay
Words by Alice Graham
Artwork by Rachel Cartledge (@rachelcartledgedesign)