City in Spring

Rolling towards the broad avenue
in bright sun the neighborhood renews
its old pledge to see a better year than last.
So much in the past belongs to regret
and wet-eyed promises to forget and build anew;
there is a spring of the spirit too.

The tires dip into a crevice
born of winter ice seems thrice
the time winter spent  to springs short lease.
All the shivered cries, hopes for arctic release,
words etched into short term pain, polar vortex
the bane of Great Lakes still ice covered some,
as the Arctic melts away.

City in Spring, robins sing, black Squirrels-
like thugs in dark hoods- seem more intent
to breach window screens and nest in attics;
gnawing  like insatiable demon-kind
arousing expletives from little church-lady lips,
they chop the tops from her flower beds.

Yet it is spring, long awaited short-lived warmth
cold-felt memories melt in heat of a friendlier sun
and once again we think of the price of gain, and
why there is no thaw in the vicious maws of greed.
Burn, burn more oil than we could ever need, given
the green side of wind and light; so we wait still

for Spring in the City is a job that pays
all who lift the boat against the downward tide-
the tried and proved path to ruin.
It is there in our hands, hope and prosperity-
spring that is unbounded, generous and for All.

Spring when we value the things...that make new life