Today’s poem is one I wrote in response to a poetry challenge by Writers Digest. The challenge was to choose a dead poet, take one of his/her poems or just a line from the poem, and write a new poem refuting that poem.

I choose the lines “Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of nowhere) … changing everything carefully … without breaking anything.” by e.e. cummings

Now here’s my poem refuting that idea.

Spring doesn’t silently creep into the world

arranging this and rearranging that.

It blows into town on a March wind,

lifting up skirt hems and sucking up snow,

announcing itself with honking geese, 

singing robins, children’s laughter.

It cracks ice on ponds and branches of tees,

spewing out bubbles of water and pink petaled flowers.

With a promise of truth and a whisper of hope it comes,

quaking and shaking and breaking hearts.