March 4th, 2011
What comes after winter? Well, in Maine what comes is what we lovingly call “mud season.” Then comes spring, if we are lucky. To celebrate the imminent arrival of mud season, here is a poem called “After the Winter” by Claude McKay.
After the Winter
by Claude McKay
Some day, when trees have shed their leaves
And against the morning’s white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night,
We’ll turn our faces southward, love,
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire the shafted grove
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.
And we will seek the quiet hill
Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
And works the droning bee.
And we will build a cottage there
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,
And ferns that never fade.
Entry Filed under: Poetry Friday