I have waited for this poem to come
like I have watched for the daffodils, tulips
the buds on John Martin’s hawthorn
everything that has the will to dare this April.
It would break the surface eventually
wintering somewhere it was sheltered,
it rises now,
a greening savage passage to meaning.
A survivor thanked God this evening
on the news, I saw him. He was eighty-two.
He checked out the stonework in his yard
stepped out, spoke to the camera
smiling gentle benediction.
Maureen Curran’s collection ‘Home’ was published by Revival Press in 2018. She blogs here with her writing group.