Donna Pucciani

Today, I

smelled spring
in the rain that followed
a month of snow.

Highways flooded,
and basement pumps
gurgled and worked

but I, at the mailbox,
stood for a moment,
bills in hand, and sniffed

the air, incipient greenness,
trees dripping the dark
substance of hope.

The hidden earthiness
of spring is somewhere
unknown, but black soil,

puddled with strange
backyard lakes and fallen
branches, holds out its arms,

ready to receive
my seeds of grass, my irises,
my bright red geraniums.

Donna Pucciani, a Chicago-based writer, has published poetry worldwide in such diverse journals as Acumen, Shi Chao Poetry, Gradiva, Journal of Italian Translation, Poetry Salzburg, and The Pedestal. She has won awards from Poetry on the Lake, the Illinois Arts Council, Poets and Patrons of Chicago, and the National Federation of State Poetry Societies, among others. Her most recent book of poems is Edges.