Vernal Equinox, Chicago


In the sunniest spot, near a sheltering wall,

galianthus blooms.  A single cluster, glowing white

against dirt still grey with winter’s slight

accumulation: leaves and slush and all.


Further down, brave green shoots emerge

but half an inch, and stop, frozen in place;

we halt in that indeterminate space

one foot most eager, raised and on the verge –


the wind says no, cutting sharp and cold,

shoves us back; our fall will break a tender bud

on forsythia branch.  Our quickened blood

slows down again; we fear we will grow old


waiting for spring, suspended on a taken breath.

It’s hard, this day, to trust in life renewed – not death.




M. Mohanraj

March 20, 2013