Of all the rites of spring
as sure as tulip spear
the forty days of Lent
anchored budding year.
Forsaking sweets (so saintly!)
with purpled liturgies
we plodded ash-benighted
with callouses on knees.
Fish and macaroni
— with a ho, for purgatory! —
we loved and gobbled up
in pleasure gustatory,
and through the season’s sackcloth
on temptation’s slippery brink
cinnamony hot cross buns,
penitential wink.
I laugh at memories ancient
and admonishments infernal
but I don’t laugh at the lesson
that spring can be internal.
Whatever your traditions, dear reader,
may Shrove Tuesday bring you spring!
With more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.