See the saturated clouds
flinging off their excess
so they can float
freely in the heavy air.
See the mighty maple
casting off its seedling bundles,
weak and hearty alike
given to their fate and the will of God.
See the timid chipmunk
scurrying out of the downspout
that its safe, warm nest is not the shelter it sought.
See me, discovering some hidden bravery,
throwing off my winter of angst
and allowing myself to bask in the joy
of the spring rain.
Spring thaw, still ice on the roof,
but the full gutters are singing.
The snow piles are shrinking,
undermined by rivers of melt.
Nature is shaking herself free
and stretching after the long hibernation.
As am I. Still wearing fleece and down,
but I can raise my thawing soul to the sun.
There is still some ice in my bones,
but my full heart is singing.
Life is hard enough
without a big stomping foot
so just let it be
The trees shed their leaves
as part of nature’s plan.
The dead leaves enrich the soil
and snuff out the choking weeds,
paving the way for new growth in the spring.
But urban humans
have a different plan.
The dead leaves need to be
raked up and hauled away.
We can’t be reminded of death and decay.
When did we decide that groomed lawns
were better than wild flowers?
When did we start to assume that we could
change our fate by hiding the evidence.
When did we forget what dead leaves are for?
We need to cover ourselves in dead leaves,
letting that blanket connect us
to all we have lost.
We need to die and decay
and pave the way for our own new growth in the spring.
What makes you so happy, little winged ones?
What fills your hearts with songs?
Is it the morning sun?
Is it the offered seeds?
Are you singing to your mates,
or your chicks, or your God?
I wish I could understand you,
so I too could sing a joyful morningsong.
April showers bring May flowers,
but what do April snows bring?
The waiting is getting tiresome.
Spring knocks, but winter refuses to let it in.
So, I huddle in my blanket,
with my white sandals in my hand,
longing for the moment
when I am free to put them on.
Those little birds that brave the cold,
their bodies puffed with feathers,
they huddle close beneath the bows
of pines in frozen weather.
Those silly things, didn’t they know
to fly south for the season?
But if there’s food and shelter here
I guess that’s enough reason.
I have food and shelter too.
Is that why I’m not going
to where the sunny beaches bake
and blue waters are flowing?
I guess that I’ll just brave the cold,
my body puffed with flannel.
I’ll sip hot chocolate from a mug,
and watch the shopping channel.