Smells of early Spring

The smells of spring tiptoe
pungently around
my olfactory nerves

making themselves known in
a hundred different scents.

 Determining which they all are
and what they are from

might take longer than
they would last

since they are fleeting with
the earliness of the season

and the fickleness of the weather.

 Guidebook in hand,
sounds are more readily identifiable

one can pick out
the very temporary call
of the Buffleheads as they stop

briefly, to refresh in the pond
on their way further north.

 The Canada Geese
honking their presence

don’t seem to bother
the more permanent members of the yard

who know their place
and take it year after year.

 I am not fooled by
their apparent flattery;

they come to eat,
and for each other.

Will they still be here
when I’m not?


return to the “memo”. (because it’s relevant)

I do not ask to be anyone at all,
just accept me mercifully so I do not fall.

Allow me just to walk and work alongside,
and keep my confidences should I confide.

I have no power except the Lord Himself,
any striving must stay on the shelf,
love as brethren please include myself.
Help me Lord to love them as much as I,
allow my ears to open to their cry.

Keep me loving You with all my heart,
and help me quietly to do my part.
©Pamela Johnson 2009