One day without warning Spring arrives,

As predictable and unexpected as a death.

Birdsong and the smack of dripping water, car tires

Spitting on wet pavement sound strange and loud

In the soft air.

I am as empty as the trees and snowless land,

Stripped of winter’s enfolding wrap.

Now robins tug at swollen worms,

Raw green shoots split the earth.

Nature has her way.

In December the ground was frozen

Hard as a bone. It took a backhoe to dig the hole.

As long as I left traces in the snow

You still were here.

What’s dead is dead and I can live with that;

This rebirth’s an intolerable affront.

Articles by Suzanne Jane

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