Spring Lake Poem by Bill Galvin

Waiting for better words to flow;
Better ways to describe Nature’s show.
But my mind is too cluttered a scene
To even feel the joy in a new-formed leaf.
And it takes some time, it takes a while,
So they say, to come to terms with grief.

Tho it’s green now on this spring-fed lake,
I wonder how many seasons it may take.
I’m told deep grief means there was great love;
But that doesn’t help to calm this ache,
Doesn’t make this foggy filter less opaque,
Knowing you are looking down from above.

(She’s here with me, I need to believe.)
Some days I have to pry myself open
To let fresher air inside to breathe;
It’s too easy to sit in a gloomy room
And allow my melancholy side to seethe.
I need to inhale deeply the sweeter air,
I need to maintain balance as I grieve.
(She’d want that, her sister would tell me.)

Two beauteous white swans float together,
(As a matter of fact, they mate for life) .
They dreamily prepare for their nesting,
As I sit on a shore side bench and write.
Remember, Babe, that one back home…
On our local lake, for so many years alone…
That’s when I learned of their life-long bond.
(Now I know how he felt on that lonely pond.)

So it’s green now on this spring-fed lake,
And I wonder how many seasons it may take.

4-28-2015 (Santa Rosa, CA)