All the grace

my eyes just opened a minute ago
and i already feel it
pressure from all sides
the sun is coming in 
from behind every curtain
the ground was just frozen 
the days were just dark and steady
but not today
Spring is clearly beating on my door
standing on the steps 
holding a bouquet of flowers
and a stupid grin
too happy for this time of day

“i am not ready!”
i yell from inside
“go away and come back later!”
i am standing in the kitchen
bare feet on the tiles
the sun is blaring in through
the windows above the sink
the too bright light cuts through 
the dirty wavy glass
marks from every storm 
since we moved in here

Spring knocks again
louder this time
the sounds of birdsong
and the razzle-dazzle of 
too many birds
chirping and crooning
they whistle and trill
shrieking and singing
far too loud and far too happy
as if to say, “lets get this nest-building,
baby-making-season started!”

another too loud knock on the door
i close my eyes  
both hands grasp the stone counters
I can picture the grin and shiny eyes
of spring so ready to spring
“damn it.” I whisper to no one but myself
there is sticky dust on the dryer
the fridge is full with outdated items
cat paws smear the face of the dishwasher
finger prints smear the tops of the doors
grime holds tight to baseboards 

a stack of cardboard boxes as tall as myself
stand sentry at the front door
all meant for last years garden beds
the sun-room is chock-a-block
with all the things from last Summer
not sent to storage or thrift store
or garbage bins in alley-way
laundry needs put away
corners and underneath beds and sofas
need swept and mopped
curtains and window sills need washed

i am last-spring-behind on 
Spring cleaning and busier than ever 
with work and life and learning
“nooo!” I turn and shout at the door
“i am not ready for you!”
i long for ice and skies of gray
for wearing sweaters inside
and shorter days
for waking in the dark
for restful Winter months
wrapped in blankets and candle light
i long to flail and wail and mourn
i am not ready for Spring