Uploaded on May 3, 2012
The woods road is but lightly traveled yet,
the little pools of water on the sides
reminders of winter mud and ice.
Spring returns to unmask the dead and the undead
as infant leaves, tightly furled,
knob out of barren branches.
In the fall, you planted daffodils
which now spear the dead leaves
that warmed them, like heedless children
biting at the giving breast.
Tiny insects swarm
but do not yet do other harm.
Water pumped from the lake
comes icy from the spigot
and won’t heat up until June.
At the cottage we will need each other’s warmth
and all the firewood we stacked at summer’s end.
—Elizabeth Hobbs
Poems from the Lake
05.03.2024: This is a lovely little scene.