There’s a dripping at my windowpane, steady.
and the March wind fill- billows the flag and follows the barest branches
blowing across the bluest sky.
I heard the woodpecker pecking just yesterday in the still morning of the first Spring day
and I hadn’t heard his echo in a while.
I told my little ones-
it’s closer now
they look upward
squinted and thinking
the place near the stones where my first crocus always lies
– the ground
expectant -like us-
And the white earth is giving way to the dirt tracked in through the backdoor.
Gritty and muddy and messy.
:::: and I think about Spring like this.
It was my birthday when the biggest snow cloaked
and I marveled at the power
immense and all-covering
Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. +Isaiah 1:18
but now my boot
and I just–
-want to shake it off.
and Spring is like that.
It always is.
The way it wakens the dormant
The way it fractures silence
The way it revels in beginning
The way it needs the dirt
Ask the Lord for rain in the springtime;
it is the Lord who sends the thunderstorms.
He gives showers of rain to all people,
and plants of the field to everyone. +Zechariah 10
and sometimes how this life
-breaks ground again
how the dew rain falls after the Winter’s gone
deep soaking in the soil
and something organic rises
fresh and bold
how it compels a looking up and a stretching forth
Today the first robins bounded into the one brown patch
stark against snow- wet gray- barked birches
of this Hope I have
the Spring sure of arriving
the way He makes
The time of singing[j] has come…
Arise, my darling.
my beautiful one.
+Song of Solomon 2