The breeze rattles
and shakes
the Dogwood’s blossoms
lose their grip
and they let go
whether by wind or time
their brief beauty lies
a wish on the wind
scattered below
like confetti
a celebration and a
mourning on what has passed
is past. And I will wait once again
with bated breath on our joyful reunion
come spring again
Tag: spring
Walls
The built-up walls
The independent streak
The survival mechanisms
to protect what was fragile
and innocent
A shell of hardened shards
Sharp, pointed and smooth
A whack and a crack
and the facade melts through
the vulnerability, the innocence
Lost too soon in the harsh cold dark
Uncertain to be liked, to be wanted,
to belong, to be me
appreciated and loved
not tossed aside, a blemished heart
The contents spill out
Walls that seemed so high, so strong
a wash over like a spring
that has finally sprung
The love, the innocence, the belonging
all still there
they always were
a crack and a whack
and I blossomed
into a mighty tree
The first signs of spring
The purple crocus appears
it burrows through
the hardened earth and pushes away
Dead leaves of seasons past.
A pop of color haphazard amid
the gray and browns
of yesteryear
All in perfect timing.
The starling is perched above me
a thin twine ensnared and jutting
across its strong beak
Nesting time is here.
Another starling calls out
a steady, monotone cry
its glistening purple and blue
head and stark beady yellow
eyes. The tail pure green turquoise
How unique its color
its cry
Blades of tiny green
fill in and around the patches of brown
new growth and hardily
All in perfect timing
Shadow and Light
To know what’s behind the shadow I must stand in the light. It may be uncomfortable It may be out of my comfort zone. It may feel out of sorts and confusing. Only the light illuminates. The truth can be too much, Like too much sunlight without a shady spot. The shadow is not always a scary corner. A dark place can be healing. A cozy cave, a reprieve from the spotlight. A space to regain and meet myself again. In the beginning, the womb was dark and was all I knew. Then there was a bright light. The world was born as I knew it. Spring is nature’s green light. A signal that we can go if we want. We can emerge from the shadow into the light. The days march on, allowing in that knowing sun. The butterfly emerges from the chrysalis Transformed in a safe cocoon And the world was reborn into flight. My feet touch the newly green grass That has grown in that warm sunshine And takes reprieve in the shadow of night Knowing that the light will greet it once more. And the greenery will grow more lush and fresh All due to the bright rays above.
Cusp of Spring
I am always in awe At the resiliency of new life that comes after the deep frost Deep sleep. There is beauty and innocence, Hope and encouragement That that same resiliency is A source in me That I can tap into and Embody when I’m struggling Or stuck. There is always hope.
Spring
Bird song, The quiet of winter melts. The cold grip that clung to the trees Exhales at winter’s end. I am wide awake to a yet Unoccupied Spring On the cusp, The verge of new life. The cycle begins. The seeds of intention are planted. I patiently wait to receive The beauty, The gifts. I’m ready for what’s next, Even while stepping into the unknown.
The Maker’s Mark
Singed and tattered Void of life Just brown husks of what used to be. Do I let them stand there Like marked gravestones? Do I pull them out Roots so deep? I gave them time to bounce back. Now spring has sprung And the tattered and torn are not Returning back to glory. The maker’s mark on what has been But is never more.
SPRING
A new beginning, A return to life, To the cycle of the season of spring. There is change in the air: The stillness, the silence. The cold and dark longing of winter Has turned the page Like a new calendar Or blank sheet of paper. The momentum of change, Of growth, has begun. The wind reminds me that There is power beyond my control. It can be warm and gentle, or biting cold. Spring is the ultimate awakening. Spring is transition manifest. I awaken from my slumber Like the songbird or blue jay’s shriek A sudden shift or a quiet moment into being, To stretch and embody All that was meant to be. Spring is the entryway to fullness, To the temple of my heart. The darkest longing now bright and bold. A word deeply written on the page. A forest of chicken scratch Where the blank earth once stood bare.
The Spring Crocus
The wild darling on the cusp of spring The crocus has found its way to the surface Having traveled over and over In the same track as its predecessors. The cold earth has found a softness, An opening. And the lush green breathes into me. The fragileness of new life. The sun breathes out energy. The seedlings desperately alchemize And rapidly transforms. Their ripe green petals mimicking grass Kiss and pepper the earth. I marvel at the emerald blades That try to camouflage into the lawn. They are hardy and make the perennial trip. They wake me from my winter slumber And remind me, even in the bitter harshness of cold and darkness, This too shall pass. And my heart leaps to join the beauty, To wear green and lie in the grass Warm to the touch from the golden sun. I touch the delicate petals And thank them for this yearly gentle reminder. A smile forms on my face. The mourning doves have returned this year. I wonder if the young couple will find a more hardier, sturdier nesting place. Nature is the greatest teacher.
Healing Insights 