Spring Comes to Old Town, Maine

by

  

The March rain is colder growing,
snow will fall on ice tonight.
Summer thoughts are huddled low in
nests of lint with summer’s mice. 

Who will sing cuccu, cuccu? 

Old panes crackle, house beams buckle,
melt waters freeze below the spouts.
Snow squalls dance with bones of maple
as this gray equinox blacks out.

 And no one sings cuccu, cuccu.

 

First published in Mostly Maine.

 

House in Scarborough, Maine - photo by Mike Smetzer.

House in Scarborough, Maine – photo by Mike Smetzer.

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