Mourning Spring

According to the calendar
we’re five days into spring,
but I’m not feeling it.

And the earth’s waking up
to the blossoms of buttercups,
but I’m not feeling it.

And the days are getting longer
as the morning birds sing,
but I’m not feeling it.

And the choir’s getting ready
for a Grand Celebration, but
I'm still not feeling it.

Like the Oak of early spring,
I have  nothing left to offer,
but these empty arms-

pressed against a clear blue sky.

 

-Cameron Dockery