Now it is Spring

 

Green moss on a dark, damp trunk,

gray sky, a pale glow bleeding down from beyond…

The first day of Spring.

Soft blush of light, wet hints of color, whispers of warmth to come.

And the earth is brushed with broad strokes of green

grass awakening to that luminescent hint of sun from above.

Sky is alive with sounds, birds flitter

scavenging winter’s husks to construct new nests.

Glorious shoots of crocus and daffodil thrust up through dun-colored leaf

and coffee-dark soil.

They seem to rise higher by the hour

lusting for the light and moist warm air.

Gazing out my back window, music lulls me into a dream

of past vision melding into the archetype of ‘Spring’.

“Come down in time”, the gentle voice croons.

This moment of awareness rooted in Now,

yet each memory reflects the echoes of the echoes

of echoes of memories of every springtime I have known;

echoes of selves that bridge the illusion of years,

like diamonds strung on a spider’s web.

Around and around, it all comes back again

to the cycles of life and death and life…

Now it is Spring.