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LA ÑAPA

In Dominican Spanish la ñapa refers to "the little extra" added on at the end. Just when you thought you'd gotten all that you would get, along comes your ñapa, like a baker's dozen, with one more kiss, one more pastelito, one more mango at the mercado.

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a poem for February

It helps to be thinking about tropical things today. As I write, it is 10 below here in Vermont. Ay sí, we are in the deep of winter! So, here's my web-ñapa for this weather, a poem about February. It is included in a wonderful collection called, The Twelve Seasons of Vermont, published by Vermont Life.

The Twelve Seasons of Vermont includes this poem for February by Julia Alvarez -- click for book summary

February

The jury is still out on you,
February,
but it doesn't look good.
You start out with a hoax:
Groundhog's Day,
though everyone knows
six-plus weeks of winter await us
whether or not
the hog sees his shadow.
Mid-month you try again
with President's Day —
What kind of a holiday is that?
Who wants to think about
politics
in the dead of winter?
Finally, you end capriciously: a day or two
shorter
than any other month.
Your strategy: to keep us guessing;
to leap
or not to leap?
that is your question.
Meanwhile, quietly, secretly,
you are plotting
a vast transformation . . .
Everything is happening
but nothing shows:
sap begins moving inside trees;
buds feel the first nudging; a hawk braves
the wind;
a black bear stirs in her cave;
foxes are searching for vixens;
chickadees gossip:
the robins are coming, the robins are coming!
Everything is not yet and almost;
countdown begins
in the thin elms, in the frozen ponds.
Stars change their positions:
the big dipper
scoops out longer days, shorter nights.
You fool us with blizzards,
subzero dawns,
ice storms to bend the birches,
long-bearded, white-haired wizard,
working magic,
you'll never get to enjoy.
Winter wimps, brats of the seasons
accuse you
of being a drag, an extra we don't need.
But what other month best teaches us
the invisible labor
that goes into any creation?
Anonymous worker, stonecutter
for the cathedrals
of summer, rough draft of the masterpiece
coming, guilty only of modesty —
we of the jury
find you innocent of all charges!
You are free to be the almost-end
of winter,
the not-yet beginning of spring.
Julia Alvarez
From The Twelve Seasons of Vermont,
published by Vermont Life.
Copyright © Julia Alvarez 2004-2010.
All rights reserved. No further duplication, downloading or
distribution permitted without written agreement of the author
(please contact my agent, Susan Bergholz).

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