spring slowly but surely
their infinite fingers of resolute patience.
They are in no hurry. What will come,
South of here it’s different, and farther north.
But this is here.
On some twigs the tenderest green
emerges, a different green, and fragile
as new things are.
Without yet the singing, buzzing and sweetness
they gather life in near-freezing wind, bare,
or nearly so.
Sap runs. You can’t see it.
Small things underground shift,
and something larger than all this.
Tomorrow is more open than the western sky,
If you have become ash,
Then wait you become a rose again.
And do not remember how often you have become ash
But how often you were reborn in ashes to a new rose.
my current obsession is
the dogwoods birthing
it’s been a patient process
over the past couple of weeks
it all started with tiny beads on the end of bare branches
every day they appear a bit more
they’re almost fully blooming now
my favorite tree is early in my walk
it’s mainly white with pink centers
but three large branches are pink with white centers
it’s simply beautiful
the magnolias came
and went quickly this year
the weeping cherries
are currently bawling their pink tears
falling in puddles on the ground
I find them on my shoulders
in my hair
This slow spring is reminding me
not to rush
beauty in all she is
everything we love
right on time