Balancing Act

NEW PROMPT DUE 1 hour 40 minutes 13 seconds
March 20 is the Spring (aka Vernal) Equinox in the northern hemisphere, and Fall (aka Autumnal) Equinox in the southern hemisphere. The Equinox marks the day when daylight and night-time are balanced, equal in length.

Write your STORY or POEM about finding balance. Title your item Balancing Act and use Nature as one of your genres.

Make sure you include your word count for stories (1000 words or less) or a line count for poems (40 lines or less) IN your forum post with the b-item link to your entry in order to be a qualified entry.



Balancing Act


When snowflakes doily the daffodils
whose buds are poised to cup the warmth,
when goldfinches don their coats of saffron
and robins hop in search of worms
still hidden beyond the frozen ground,
when the calendar says its the beginning of spring,
but the thermometer belies the wind chill factor;
you know it's March in Michigan.

Though the sun fills the sky and a part
of me yearns to see sheets on the line,
though I know better, I think of tossing them in the washer
because, just maybe, it will warm enough to dry,
though I know I'll be disappointed, I convince myself
that, just maybe, I won't be byt then,
at any rate I'll have clean sheets
for another cold night in Michigan.

Do we bring more loads of wood up from the back forty?
The wood's gone and there's none in the house.
Do we drag it up only to have to move it back?
Six of one; half dozen of the other. Do we listen
to birdsong or the weatherman? He's wrong about as much
as he's right. The birds, though, sing mating songs.
Grab wood, put on a sweater because, after all,
it is Spring in Michigan.

See-saw time when nature is all at sixes and sevens
and water fills heel marks in the mud only to freeze over.
Trust the dog to find where it has melted. Paw-print time
on the floor. Hubby leaves his boots in the garage
except when he forgets. Mud-time here when Mother Nature
can't make up our minds and every day is a surprise.
Whether or not the weather coincides with the news;
it doesn't hardly matter--it's that time of year in Michigan.

Expect the best; prepare for the worst is the unwritten rule.
Cover all your bases, and wait five minutes: the weather will change.
Kind of like life in general, don't you know. For nothing
is written in stone and even rocks will crack under pressure.
You just pick up the pieces and go on your way--
snowy, sunny, or disquieting day. Everything's ducky
or they swim by in the flood, things are pristine or covered in blood.
It's a day, we get through it, go on to the next. It's Michigan.


40 lines