Thursday, April 17, 2025

April 17: Malaprop


I didn’t know they were

spring’s first harbingers,

soft grey and spindly 

on March’s flat backdrop.


They grew near a stream

running beside our parish. 

Species: salix discolor.

Each velvety gray pith

insulating a softer bud 

sealed within till spring,

lithe limbs outstretched,

dotted mini paw pads.


I didn’t know then they were

my mother’s favorite.


As Dad pulled the car

into the parish lot one Sunday,

I unbuckled, pushed forward

cracked the window, mouth 

pushed through like a fish 

at a pond’s surface, pressed out:


Good morning, Pissy Willows! 


Then: 

finches’ warblings

fell silent. 

Sisters’ titters

crescendoed.

The first of 

my many malaprops.




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