my mother was so optimistic
she could see the bright side of a train wreck.
perhaps during winter, she would focus on
the colors between snowflakes
such as the red tube slides, green swing sets,
and the blue monkey bars in a vacant playground
or the yellow of a goldfinch pecking seeds
at birdfeeder, decorated with metal-crafted thistles.
and me? i was just the realistic son
who didn’t care if he used words like “full” or “empty”
when describing something that contains
half of what it should hold.
and the only color i felt like seeing that season
were the green sprouts of a snowdrop
which would always and immediately get buried
by the final snowstorm in march.
but once all the snow melted later in the month
i would rediscover those snowdrops
growing under my mother’s garden fountain
still green and unbent, and in full bloom.
then suddenly, i was no longer happy for winter
and couldn’t wait for april to arrive with all its colors
and all its flowers where i would eventually
hide dozen of easter eggs and treats for my nieces.
i just wish nowadays
i could view these colors with mom in her garden
so vibrant then, that even when winter returns
you could still see it through all the white.
– Anthony Lusardi
Anthony Lusardi has worked as a freelance reporter and at Costco. His poetry has been published in journals, such as Frogpond, Modern Haiku, bottle rockets, hedgerow, Ribbons, NOON and Verse Virtual. He has four chapbooks, published by buddha baby press, and currently lives in Rockaway, New Jersey. His latest book is ‘raindrops from yesterday.’ To purchase copies, contact him through email at lusardi133@gmail.com.