Pre Spring - Poem by Oskar Hansen
It had stopped raining I went for a walk, the sun came for a visit and
it got hot. Took my coat off, marched on till the sun had had enough
and rolled back home. The almond tree, by the lane, looked puny
spindly twigs for branches, and grey bark. Ghostlike if it hadn’t been
so pathetically ugly. Looked closer and saw a pair of pink buds on its
a twig. Now the tree was beautiful and I fretted about the chill in
the wind and if frost comes in the night, will it snuff out this new life?
I took pictures of the buds, but the photos were a bit blurred and
colours not so bright as those I saw with naked eyes, yeah, like my
eyes should be undressed most of the time, or hidden behind dark
sunglasses. In about three weeks, if all goes well, my bare, nutty tree
will be covered in pink flowers and look lovely. Elderly hearts will
feel young again and beat too hard. In the vale, where I live, there are
many funerals in March.
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