After Theodore Roethke
I have known the mystery of the oncoming spring,
the swept dead leaves from the edges of sidewalks,
remnants of last years chill tangled inside the deadening drifts of winter,
so that if you look hard enough you might mistake it for autumn-
just with greener grass and a sun that grows darker
across your skin each and every day you abandon your desk to work outside,
still finding yourself distracted, head turning at every rustle which could be
either a newborn bunny, or, quite possibly, a murderer in the bushes.
And spring is not just for awakening
or for lovers to realize each other upon a planned picnic by the lake,
rather, a funeral for the springs in the past, lost
in the sound of gunshots we no longer want to hear
each time we close our eyes at the end of the day in winter.
By Rebecca Dutsar
Rebecca Dutsar is an enthusiastic 20-year-old from Newtown, CT. She is a junior at Ithaca College where she majors in Writing and serves as the Editor-in-Chief for a campus wide publication, The Mirror Magazine. Aside from writing, she enjoys drinking tea and scrolling through photos of baby animals online. Nothing makes her happier than feeling connected to a writer while reading their work, and it her goal to give others the same feeling as they read her own poetry and short fiction. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Harpoon Review, That Lit Site, Souvenir Lit, Unbroken Journal, and After the Pause. You can find her on twitter @beccsdutsar.