The days are getting longer.
“Hallelujah!”
A beleaguered Canada proclaims,
In a winter-exhausted jubilance.
All the bulbs are bursting out of the ground,
Beautiful zombies after a cold apocalypse,
Reaching up like Lazarus from the grave.
And people are smiling again,
Rejoicing in Spring.
“We made it!”
As though we aren’t living in Victoria,
Confusing all the world with our mild climate
And relatively benign winters,
If you can call three days just below freezing
Winter.
See, I like Winter.
I miss its quiet, peaceful blanket.
The solitude, the cozying up, the hot cocoa.
Diamond-glazed trees and crystalline trees.
A reason to cuddle (in case you need a reason).
But Spring is coming.
And I shudder,
Because I don’t love Spring.
I’m not sure I really even like it all that much.
All that rain.
All that grey.
All that mud.
I’m over it.
I went for a run last week,
Through a flurry of cherry blossom petals,
Which was very pretty,
I’ll admit,
Until
I inhaled a petal by accident,
And dry-heaved and spluttered
Like a fool on the chip trail,
In between Cook Street and the playground.
I know it’s not okay to dislike spring;
It’s like saying you don’t like puppies.
But I do like puppies,
Very much, thank you.
And Spring just tried to choke me.
Let’s get on with Summer.