Losing Spring

Poem about my mother dying in 2013

Displayed by the Saint Paul Saints in their poetry garden

The Norway pines barely hold up the late April snow.

They try to shake it off in the wind, their heavy branches losing spring.

Winter festers its rage, its want to hang on longer this year.

The pines have no choice.

They nest the white wetness.

Mostly only a resting place for animals and insects,

Now they carry a burden-the burden of weight.

The pounds of the ending season pull and pull.

Soon the day will come when the white will sift through the needles

Allowing the branches to spring back, though perhaps not to their original height.

That place between winter and spring, the trees wait patiently,

As only they can do.

I cannot.