Spring That Comes

Haven’t written poetry in years. But tonight I felt like it. Here it is, off the cuff, written in the last 45 minutes, hot off the proverbial press!


I feel the Spring coming.
Repeat of each journey around this elipse we cling.
Have we been here before, hanging in space –
This precise horizon, aligned again with Father
Sun and Mother Earth?

Aging things learn aging.
But there are new things that were not
here last time around this canting wheel.
River of Souls, come see such traffic jams
of the millions who leave and the earth
children who’ve just arrived!

Look!  Yellowed pages, poems
and songs I once knew.
Muse who came through this faltering mind,
I am glad at least of one thing I have learned –
to open the door and let you through.

Point to God, I dare you. Only leave your lofty finger
alight for an hour and a day. This way you cannot
be faulted for the full circumference of such universal tasks.
Earthly spin. Heaven Design. Emote what comes.

I still remember to look down and watch the lilies bloom,
the worried ant along his trail, the cicada song,
the human tear, and warming smile not at all
juxtaposed to how or why.

For this,
Find the ones you love and drop a gentle
kiss upon their brow,
a word of love mixed upon these
event horizons.

Come Spring. Green my vision again.
And I will smell as never before, until
we come around anew.