Portland to Barcelona, Winter to Spring
The snow drifts block my view of the water.
Waves and waves of white, but no push and pull,
no give and take. Spring eludes, birds huddle.
The seagulls caw and wheel, while cold days linger
on, despite a clear blue sky. From the mountain,
the tramontana bares its teeth anew.
On a park bench, we sit as he unwraps
the old blue bottle, thick with a relief
of Catalans dancing the sardana.
In front of City Hall, his mittened hand
reaches for a woolen purple hat, left
there by a neighbor, a knitter, a friend.
The smell of hops claws the air, fights for space,
rises above the wind. It is winter.
We drink Allagash Black and toast the sun.
In front of the old stone masia,
a tree stands solid, fisted with white blooms,
a soft spectre against a concrete sky
With the first rains, they petal down, pasting
themselves to the sidewalk, a sudden riot of spring,
while the scent of salt shakes out on the wind.
The days are getting longer, the sky pinks
early, lingers in the gloaming. Robins
alight, their red bellies promising spring.
About the Poets
Tasha Graff used to live in Barcelona, Spain but now she lives in Portland, Maine, where she teaches English. Her poetry has appeared in such places as Word Riot, Epigraph Magazine and From the Fishouse. Her latest projects include writing poems about wrens and learning the uke.
Melissa Leighty used to live in Portland, but now she lives in Barcelona, where she is a freelance writer. Her essays and poetry have appeared in Salt, Colloquium, and English Journal. Her latest projects include a book imprint and a cookbook about Catalan cuisine.