No, this isn’t about the first day of spring, except in the way it was colder and wetter than hoped for, and felt bleaker since I was expecting warmer. It’s rather about the way a cold front, when it comes in, needs to move through before it clears. The argument I wrote about yesterday was not, despite what the poem seemed to indicate, solved at once. Today I felt bleak and bleary, and grouchy. But I took a bike ride in the late afternoon, for fresh air and to find a poem. I liked the poem I found - the rhythm appropriately pugnacious. And the ride and the poem revived me.
A riddle: why not settle into grouchiness
growl, baleful, at the fickle sky and shake your fist
succumb to world’s weight drag down into slouchiness
call it one of those days that - face it - won’t be missed?
Indeed, it seems the path of least resistance
Why summon up the needed grim persistence?
When has the sun come out through sheer insistence?
To find success would seem to need a sixth sense
But maybe if you wait a bit you’ll find one
Surprising uplift can come up behind one
and tickle evil feelings till they’re undone
and dissipate like fog banks in the bright sun
The answer: sure, be grouchy if you must
The light will still come reignite your trust.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 21, 2011
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