“Tarry,” is Spring’s Command

          “Tarry,” is Spring’s Command

Modern poetry  modern verse contemporary poetry  contemporary verse  modern poem  contemporary poem

Yet if we grieve, the spring that blossoms will

Not come as wishes quick or slow will leap.

The grief of spring will hasten just the spill

Of cherry blossoms.  Spring will only creep

Back when its universe returns again.

Our grieving cannot bring it back or speed

Another April.  If our efforts strain

To bring back apple blossoms,  spring’s own creed

Is rigid.  It demands belief in hope

But offers no release from June through March.

Abandoned, consolationless, we grope

Along pathetically, limbs left to parch.

  We tarry like the virgins with their oil

    Till spring returns along its unmoved coil.

Phillip Whidden