Charles Cohn

Old women sitting
In warm April sun... the cold
Stays long in old bones
...

The sun starts his march
Northward; the land becomes quick
As the new year stirs.
...

The long-barreled Colt
Reaches out and shakes my hand.
'Ah... We've met before.'
...

...

Cold grey bitter days
Slowly give place to soft airs;
The world whispers: Spring!
...

Long ribbons of geese...
The air fills with wild music
Ancient, but made new.
...

On the first warm day
Children rush about, hatless,
Laughing. 'Ears! ' they shout.
...

Chill rains, absent sun,
Snow in the middle of May...
Spring, Midwestern style.
...

The old land is washed
By new showers; soon will come
April's first green shoots.
...

Now the sap rises.
Cold nights, warm days, and... a tap
Bring maple sugar.
...