Spring for Beginners

She cannot yet turn over

so she sits on the lawn 

in her car seat while the twins 

and the neighbor's cat

orbit her world

She cannot help but see

what we have been missing - 

the budding maple

six stories high

an apartment for blackbirds 

and mourning doves

Beyond, against the blue,

mute clouds

try to invent a dance

that we fail to imagine

because we rarely look up

Her eyes move to

her first movie screen,

the side of the white house

that shows all of our shadows

in the afternoon

The cat and she

hear the trucks growl

as they gear down

to pass through

town

She feels the same slow breeze

that feathers all our faces

while New England greens

04

copyright 2004 Trevor Haug

from "Poems of New England"