Posted by: poet kate hutchinson | March 2, 2014

Zombies Await Spring

greekchorus_largeBoy, this winter has just sapped the life out of everyone and everything, hasn’t it?  At school, students and teachers alike are the walking dead – pasty, sniffling, and deflated.  I haven’t worn a skirt since November, and the last few weeks I’ve resorted to jeans, boots, and bulky zip-front cardigans 3 days a week without hearing a peep from the boss.  (Probably because she’s wearing them, too.)  There’s a crust of salt half an inch thick on my garage floor, and this morning, the snow plow buried my Sunday New York Times under the four-foot mound next to the driveway, where it joins 3 others entombed there beginning with the blizzard on New Year’s Day.  (See photo below.)

???????????????????????????????I’m sure I’m not the only writer who suffers from Dry Pen Syndrome each winter.  It’s been a daily struggle to fend off depression, plus the crabbiness and lack of creativity that come with it.  Even my full-spectrum light bulb didn’t help this year.  Only now, with the sun rising before I leave for work and staying up until dinnertime, have I felt the clouds lifting.  With 6 new inches of snow last night and a high of 12 today, though, it’s hard to be hopeful that Spring will find us any time soon.

writers-blockSince the holidays, any spark of creativity I’ve felt has petered out within 48 hours, leaving me with several half-written or barely-started stories and poems – a word graveyard strewn across my dining room table.  It took a writing prompt and a deadline from the Northwest Cultural Council to get myself writing poems again.  Their annual contest, themed “The Fire of Spring,” closes this week.  We can each submit 2 poems, so I wrote one in a literal vein – about the Equinox – and one that is more metaphoric — about my son’s annual springtime quest to find out where all roads end.  [Update:  I found out on April 3 that the latter poem won 2nd place!]

Here is the poem about the sun’s returning. (It’s written in couplets, but Word Press doesn’t allow double spacing of incomplete lines — grrrr — so I’ve had to use the intrusive dashes to separate the stanzas.  When oh when will software become friendly to poets???)

Happy Spring in advance, everyone.  It’s coming one way or another on March 20.


budsShe tiptoes downstairs

for coffee and quiet

just before dawn. Outside,

gray light greets mist

dripping from the maples,

buds mere thoughts

on branches. Frost glistens

as silver melts to blue,

winter’s threadbare coat

mid-shrug. She swirls

her cream, sips, sighs,

each swallow warming her

JTB-K006-003643Nas the sun’s first rays

set rooftops aglow.

She stands at the window,

heart centered below

sleeping children, and

feels the Earth swell

beneath her feet, its

cosmic pendulum

lifting her into Spring.


  1. Aahhhhhhhhhhh!

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