The snow was waist-high in Monson, but by the time I got home yesterday, the accumulation in Portland had mostly vanished--just plow leftovers and shady corners--and the crocuses were blooming brightly. Now we've got two days of rain ahead of us, and the grass will keep greening and the buds will keep swelling, and by Saturday the city will have returned to spring.

My high school season is nearly over: just two more classes in April, then students' gallery opening in May, and we'll be done till September. It's been a very good year. I've learned a lot about organizing a progression of writing experiences, and I feel as if if the kids have stepped confidently into their final projects. They've put so much work into their writing, but I also don't feel any panic from them, and that's a good thing.

Today I'll be back at my desk, back at my housework. Probably I'll go out to write tonight. Probably I'll go for a walk in the rain. My sprained ankle is still bothering me a little, but at this point walking actually seems to help it. I hope I can get it back into shape before we go to Acadia in two weeks. Otherwise, my hiking hopes will be shot.

***

Fledgling

Dawn Potter

 

Once I was a child

ashamed of my small delights,

picking my nose secretly under the rhododendrons

 

as the scent of spring earth and old cement

spread like the chill breath of the underworld.

Ghosts shimmered on the broken doorstep,

 

rising through dust to become my own new skin.

I did not imagine a world without ghosts—

nor the end of wonder, dust swept away.

[from Calendar (Deerbrook Editions, forthcoming)]