Spring

The Truth of Spring

It is the truth of the mist of thawing mud

Heavy grass clumped and crawling

Waking

Writhing in its saturated bed

Exhaling winter

And every cell in my legs is reborn

Each singing operatic into my joints,

“Run!

Atrophy will not win this year,

You are resurrected,

You and your woods,”

And I remember old infatuations-

Enamored with the trees-

I go and scream unmitigated life

To those blood covered roods

And my spirit elated

Leaps from me to sail mythic

Into those red splattered branches

And feel them right upon my naked heart-

And my lover born again

In the flowering fields

Trillium, violets, and laurels of eternal wisdom

And my children in the water bathing new skin

Not for filth, but for the sake of sensation

For the cold,

For joy

It is the truth of the emerging canopy

Which will soon be heavy with its own fruit

And will bend low to touch the rising grass

Clover and wild onion

And clasp hands in the shadowy cathedrals of spring

 

-JSMB 3/1/09

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One thought on “Spring

  1. That was beautiful prose! And your words touched my well-rooted soul.
    God bless Spring! I wondered if I would ever wake again to shoot a sprig or two.

    May peace and love bloom wildly for you in the coming months. Cheerz, UT 🙂

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