When Spring Arrived

“Spring has come early this year” he said
as he scraped the mud from his boots
I heard his words falling like blanket snow,
not melting, but building up
like the drifts at the bottom lane behind the hedge,
reflecting the solid winter of my discontent.
He pulled the chair to the table
waiting for his portion-
Steam rises, reaching his mouth
before the mass of green cabbage disperses it
No, I’ll not sit at table, I’ll watch him
As I have done these long years
Waiting for him to belch, push aside his empty plate
But never more after this
spring, this is my spring
Standing there I feel the excitement build
So, enjoy your last meal, I smiled,
I savoured, as he did, every spoonful
this was so different from all the thousand times
I had served him these so many years
I’ll grant him this small pleasure
Because I know for sure
I will never again eat green cabbage!