These days are green and lush,
the lake invisible from the road
as milkweed fluff
or spider silks drift
restlessly on the warming breeze.
Leaves spread, flickering
even over city streets, and shaded
on the sidewalk all I can think of–
‘a little goat-footed balloon man whistling far and wee’,
and the tinkling ice cream cart
around the corner, hawking sweet bliss
before the afternoon splits open wide in soft rain.
A cool treat it is; rain pours
more often than not, trapping me,
likely on a hike,
in a world that describes exactly what e. e. cummings meant by “mudluscious,”
and it’s transient spring.