Spring Poetry

Spring, by Kim Kalil

That April morning chill
Distinctly winter’s end
And not beginning
This frigid day
Could be sullen November’s
But no
It smells of winter’s retreat
The loosening of its icy grip
And carries the scent
Of all things bud and burgeon
My excitement also sprouts
On this hopeful April day
Along with the crocuses
Opening their purple mouths
So wide
In unison towards the sun
Baring golden stamens
Protruding like poised trumpets
Ready to trill
Proclaiming that
Spring has indeed arrived!

By Kim (Bo) Stone Kalil

Kim (nicknamed Bo in high school) Stone Kalil, lives in Toronto and spends as much time as possible with her family and friends at her home in the Thousand Islands, which was previously a 100-year-old defunct horse stable. Kim shared some of her architectural design techniques in several articles published in 2024. She also shared another poem in January 2025. ...

Red Horse Rock, by Manley L. Rusho

The mighty, polished rock just below the surface lies,
beware to boaters, the Red Horse Rock waits for the unsuspecting and the unwise.
For it is not the actual rock itself that holds the prize,
but the fish that dwell around the fortress and fend concealment.
They hide and feed in the tangled weeds that helps hide
the vastness of the rock’s size.

Somewhere around this magical location of the rock and weeds,
a giant fish is sure to be lurking to snatch my lure mistaken as feed.
From my boat on the river, the background is the Wright’s pump house with its yellow paint and sturdy stone base.
As I observe the weeds around the rock, I estimate that
they are at least three feet deep, maybe even four - as I continue the chase.

I cast again and miss my mark as my lure hits the thick weeds and then floats back to the top.
I continue my casting journey knowing that somewhere is a monster fish hiding deep within the rock.

The hours passed by as we continued to play the usual fisherman’s game of hide and seek.
As I reflect on this mission so many years later, this river expedition gave me some great memories to keep.

[Red Horse Rock is located in Aunt Jane's Bay, Grindstone Island, NY.]

By Manley L. Rusho

Manley Rusho was born on Grindstone Island and left our River forever in January this year. Back in 2021, Manley started sharing his memories with TI Life. (Manley Rusho articles). They were most popular as they not only described what it was like to grow up on Grindstone Island, but they were filled with humor and wisdom.

The Old Pump, by David Lyttle

(for Phil Booth)

The rain is falling
on the green boathouse
and on the marsh outside
and I am in the green
boathouse, working alone
on the old black water pump
that like a hard muscle
has pumped up marsh water
to the main house longer
than the gibberish
of private myth reveals –
it needs new leathers
like I need a new heart –
what is my life coming to?
I have grunted and sworn
over these iron gears
for forty odd years –
but now it works again
thumping up marsh water
like blood thru lead pipes
to cook food in, to wash
dishes, faces, hands
to flush the toilet –
and now the rain passes
like some useless pain
clarifying nothing –
and in the light
of evening
white moths drift
under the long pink anatomy
of clouds –
and I stand
by a golden boathouse
among lilies and duckweed
singing to the totems
of my simple life
along the shore
glancing
thru leaves and shadows
at the main house –

By David Janes Lyttle

David Lyttle, of Syracuse, NY, passed away in November 2022 at 98 years of age. He was an emeritus professor of early American literature at Syracuse University and published extensively on Emerson, Thoreau, and Jonathan Edwards. At the time of his death, we published a number of his poems from his four published books. His poem "The Old Pump" described his trials and tribulations when repairing the water pump at his cottage Greyrock, on the Canadian mainland.

"This poem was originally published in The Blue Boat (2007), then edited and republished in The Blue Antiquity of Dawn, David's last book published in 2014."