Spring Song for My Wife


By Ted Schaefer (1939-2012)

Last spring
your blooming belly
promised springs
we'll spend our lives
gathering:
blue eyes in uncut grass,
muddy May creepings,
Jenny fingers
minutely splashing
brown sunwarm water;
and although
this spring
there's a hole
in the air
6 feet high
where my father
used to be
assuring a spring
without tomatoes
in rusty tin cans
the world-shapes
of you and me
will be gardens
ribaldly flowered
with streaming red morning clouds
and hawks and larks and goldfinches
because we have each other
and someone else
quite new
to magnify our
not-quite-countless
springs in ways
still beyond
our wildest thawings.


Ted Schaefer was a widely published, award-winning writer of fiction, poetry and journalism and was an accomplished teacher and editor. His stories and poems appeared in many publications including Another Chicago MagazineSaturday ReviewNew Letters, and the Village Voice.  His many publications include two books of poetry: After Drought and The Summer People.

Bird’s Thumb is honored to publish this poem in his memory.