A Season in Limbo – Arnie Reisman
The trouble with spring in New England
Is that it’s usually nothing more than
A hastily stitched doormat to summer
Once you’ve finished wiping your feet
Through the soft fibers of the first warmth
You’re ushered into the heat of a plantation
Among the bricks and Brahmins in Boston
I often felt when spring came and left
I was probably in the bathroom at the time
But then fortune moved me to my island
Off the New England coast of contrariness
The weather pattern of behavior did not change
What did change over time was my behavior
I found I didn’t need a very long spring
To feel warmth from stars that shed light on me
What I needed was what I now have
A smaller hive where buzzing becomes singing
Where the honey is easier to taste
Where season most often refers to cooking
Where ocean breezes prime our pumps
Where there’s more talk of words than the weather
Where colors burst and fade and renew
Monet said he had wanted to paint the air
And I am just pleased as can be to breathe it
This poem was originally posted at the Vineyard Gazette, where Arnie frequently contributes commentary, poetry, and thoughts on life. Read more of his writing here.
