SPRING TO

Like someone clearing his throat
the car starts up
a quickening in the womb
there is no room
for wavering we must all hold
our directins why not?
when millions have perished
in snowdrifts, in flash floods
in the unexpectedness
of gruesome war and still
we can't decide
whether to wear short skirts
or long or if it would be
better to walk the dog here
or on the beach
what is the point of all this
luxury and indecisiveness
when days drift
like a lifetime of fingernail clipping
against the shut doors of tomorrow
and still the air smells sweet at 6am
and I feel such love that I know
despite all evidence and common sense
anything is possible, spring comes,
the child who quickens in the womb
may live to see unprecedented peace.

(c) Lora Mountjoy