Spring in the Okanogan
is a proper matron,
a faithful wife
calling on her experience to
step delicately,
carefully,
dipping her toes
into fertility.
One Crocus.
One small buttercup.
Testing the waters for
immanent frost.
Bellingham’s spring, however,
rises as a voluptuous whore,
casting away all
her covering robes to
abandon herself into an
orgy of colorful
reproductive joy!
Blissed, she cavorts with
bumblebees and robins,
a bacchanalian festival
welcoming back the sun.
