The Slaughter of Spring

@Toronto Star, Droopy Daffodils

“Tree’s dead.” Grayson pointed at it on our way to fetch the children from school. I followed him, even though there was plenty of room on the sidewalk for us both.

“You don’t know that,” I called back. But admittedly the branches looked crucified from the storm.

“Daffodils are dead, too. Look at those bent-over heads.” Grayson pointed out more casualties.

“I can’t look.” Grayson chuckled at this. “Besides, straws are easily mended. Anything’s possible.” I said this aloud, but when we passed the muted petals, I lost my faith.

“The sun’s a straw,” I said, figuring he wouldn’t get the connection. “Soaked up all the snow around here in less than a day.”

Energetic and full of stories, the children traipsed off the bus, but the excitement of our spring had been slaughtered, so my mind and I wandered lonely as a cloud.

© khartless 2022, All Rights Reserved


dVerse Poet’s Pub~Prosery–Lillian is host tonight and tasked us with integrating a titled line: “I wandered lonely as a Cloud” by William Wordsworth (a personal favorite of mine) into a bit of prose not to exceed 144 words. Join us.

38 Comments

  1. ” the branches looked crucified from the storm.” The use of the word “crucified” here is jarring. And then the images of death you write of…not the usual spring fare, needless to say. Quite an effective write.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Lillian. Our early spring was indeed slaughtered here this past weekend with a big storm. But still, it was beautiful, and some of the more patient bloomers will still put on a show.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you kindly, D. I had that sad, sinking feeling watching the snow this weekend, but now, it seems we may be in the clear. I appreciate you reading and commenting on this bit of prosery.

      Like

  2. We all get hit by storms now and then. I think we’re all more resilient than we know. Same with daffodils. And trees. Trees that got cindered in the 2019 bushfires are still struggling on. The ridge-lines still look a bit bare-fingered but not as bare as they were. Sorry. I shouldn’t discount the grief. It is sad to see such damage. No doubt about that. And you write about it beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Worms. There’s that burst of happiness when a few spring things happen, but now that cautious worry knowing winter may backlash. You’re right, though. They have held their own through this storm. Perhaps we are all more resilient than we know. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you kindly, Gyspie. Those bright daffodil children. They will have to make their own minds up about how they will view the glassy world in front of them. I appreciate you reading and commenting here. I got a bit behind on the comments with it being the end of the term.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. “the branches looked crucified”
    Such a poignant image and zap right in the Lenten Season. Here in T&T our clime is just The Rainy and The Seasons. And there are cultural and religious seasons.

    Have a good week. Thanks for dropping by my blog

    Much💜love

    Like

  4. Your prose calls out so well how as adults we mourn what should have been – and kids move onto the next thing. (I like the image of the sun being a straw!)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you very much. It is true we are mourning perhaps too much as adults. It’s nice to see the children enjoy the sunshine and soak at the moment. I guess in a way they remind me to also do that. I appreciate you reading and commenting. Please excuse my delay. Got a bit over-busy and then did a really bad job of reminding myself to go back and respond.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. No apology necessary, K, honestly. I have varying opportunities myself to read posts and comment, and I miss some altogether. Its just lovely to read people’s work.

        Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s