A Spring Birthday
When the violets
and Jack in the Pulpit awaken,
ferns unfold their bowed heads
and stand tall in frond wrappings,
trees pause in conversation to attend
to the yellow visions of Dandelions
and to Trout Lilies and May Apples
as they pray for the dead snake on the path.
You may say this is fantasy
caused by too much listening
to the whispers of a greening forest.
But she has come to rouse her sleepy soul –
to rise with spring and warming days
having been summoned by wind, river, stars and stones
to this holy place
to receive a new voice
to learn fresh songs
to birth a new dream for her life
and new hope for this aching world.
©photo and poem by caf
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