Ode to Springtime

Springtime in New Orleans

January '11

I sit here at an outdoor terrace
watching the steam roll atop
the oily film of a strong, delicious
cup of coffee. It's a sunny afternoon
and the light shines in crosses across
the pages of my book - stories of the South.

A cool wind blows and I long to be
in New Orleans, watching the branches
of those old, massive, beautiful trees

dance along St. Charles Avenue.
I long to sit underneath one of those
trees with this same book and mug of coffee,
Feeling the fresh Southern wind blow
across my face and through my hair.

I long to watch tiny flowers roll
along the ground at my feet.
I long to watch them take part in
A choreographed dance to Satchmo's
"West End Blues". Dancing through those
Old beautiful branches and jumping
Into the arms of the Mississippi.

I'd gladly pack it all into a rucksack
and run away to my lady in the South -
Just to sit in a patch of grass,
pluck small flowers from this giving Earth,
Close my eyes and be part of that old, old song.

---
Headed back to NOLA on a roadtrip with Gabbi and Charles over Spring Break (March 12-20). This is the poem that led to the realization that I needed to go back.