RESURRECTION:  The Greening of Spring

  

                                   Walking the trails at Kensington Park, I meet

                                    a crane.  Walking side-by-side for a      

bit, he eats bugs while  I take pictures of him

eating bugs.  Bidding him farewell, I

continue on to watch red winged blackbirds

chatter in the trees.  On Aspen Trail, I see

an old farmstead marked by a slab of

cement foundation.  Rusty wheels from an

old machine decay among golden brown grasses.

At the edge of the coming-to-life creek bed

skunk cabbage bursts into life.

Thoughts dart and flit in my head like

finches and chickadees darting

to eat seeds out of children’s hands.

If I live to be one hundred, I’ve lived

three/quarters of my life already.

There’s no more time to waste.

 I want to spend the rest of my days

LIVING my passion—my LIFE.

I love walking timeless in the woods

in spring, listening to my own rhythms,

listening to birdsong, listening

to wind in the trees.

 

Life seems clearer to me now. 
My voice merges with Ueland and others

Walk, listen, experience wonder,

creatively dream.  Take time.  LIVE

Take notes, take pictures,

be spontaneous in-the-moment—

see, hear, feel, taste, touch who and what

crosses your path

living or dead

past or present.

A word here,

a song there,

a strip of black earth where a fire raged,

a wagon wheel,

words,

a poem,

the crack of a bat,

her boy is on second.

Yes!

Yes to baseball.

Yes to spring.

Yes to poetry.

Yes to green in the woods and garden.