Everyday Poetry: Stuck

Mud and cold slur together like April's had too much drink 

and has forgotten her own name. 

My little boys ignore the obvious rush of arctic air and sloshy mud

and forge through the elements to bask in the clearing that broke

this afternoon after days upon days of rain and whipping wind. 

I stand behind the sliding glass doors looking on as they salvage

what's left of the day

enjoy what's good

bask in what's been given

and I am super glued to the floor. 

My oldest comes to the door for a drink

nose red

cheeks pink

smile wide

I ask him if it's just too cold to play outside. 

"Not if you keep moving, mom," he says in between gulps.

"If you keep moving it gets warmer and warmer."

He shuts the door, cuts off the cold of a stuck-in-winter spring and runs off into the yard. 

I watch him closely as he 

laughs

talks

jumps

runs

and I know what I have to do. 

We're sharing Everyday Poetry over at Bigger Picture Blogs every Monday in April. Join us.