Spring Poem

I need a poem for spring
I check my chapbook—the one I wrote
two years ago.
I look under my bed;
wander through the house,
searching.
And through each window
the rising sun peeks.

It’s out there—I know it—spring.
Pungent daffodils such bright
yellow you expect them to
rub off on your hands
Soft pink blossom sea
against robin egg blue sky
chirping birds
just beyond sight
silly gray squirrel still
trying to find last fall’s nuts,
upturning newly sprouted
radishes in the process.

Somehow this acrid brown coffee
in my hands seems out of
season—too much winter
“Out!” she calls
“Mow the grass, take a walk,
smell the air of a new season
dig in the dirt
spring is here
Come out
Come out!”

(This is not necessarily the final copy, if anyone has any suggestions…)