The percussive April sounds
work themselves into a perfect storm
as the electric Spring hues-
you know the ones:
the shocking orange,
an almost toxic green,
explode with little regard to ceremony
and settle into spaces
that were splintered by winter
and buried away, forgotten and lonely.
It helps me remember that I am not the only thing
to survive the harsh reality of December.

And, trust me, it was easier said than done.
As the world around me shifts and begins to renew
I start to learn to grow back too.