“A forsythia inside the courtyard of École Normale Supérieure (Paris)”, Copyright 2005 David Monniaux, via Wikimedia Commons.
The Glad Hand of Spring
Golden shooting stars fall toward the earth,
A fragile graceful fountain,
Refreshing mental drought.
A burst of garden laughter,
The greeter at spring’s gate,
Forsythia!
(April 17, 1989)
Virginia Gambardella
Virginia writes: “I vividly remember the day I wrote this poem. I needed a poem for the church’s monthly bulletin, and I needed it immediately, so this was composed in a few minutes for the secretary. The forsythia grew outside the office window and I had in the previous two or three year reshaped it into a fountain (as it should not have been sheared off across the top like a privet hedge). By ‘89 it was outdoing itself, so in fact, deserved an ode to its beauty.”
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Virginia Gambardella lives in New York. She has one son, three grandchildren, and enjoys the following: people, holidays, antiques, nature, gardening, fishing, decorating, fashion, sharing knowledge, cooking, and baking. She’s a cancer survivor, a pancreatitis survivor, a widow, and the re-inventor of her life, “as necessary.”
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