These sounds of silence
Rumble and roar
I’m in a constant state of questioning
Asking what love is,
Filling in the gaps between all my questions
With the things we saved for March
Relishing in the idea of spring
And what it means to bloom
Peeling away at citrus,
Reaching for the plums and nectarines
In the icebox, scarfing down cooled melon
Picking at peonies and daffodils
Thinking about tea but hating its taste
I was never a morning person
But the sun these days is so new

But it’s when the winter creeps back
And I awake to a morning frost
Bits of past, pieces of December
Pine trees and heating cars
I remember the worth of remembering
And the reality of how time moves
And how all these questions
Sprinkle down with snow, rain,
sun rays, or leaves
never leaving, never eased
only knowing that I don’t know
and that seasons don’t return; they just pass

I feel its living breath
close now
scented soft upon my shoulder
shivers the breeze
every lamb,
every flower,
every blossoming tree
I do not walk through spring
it walks through me

My old cat in spring
twitches his ear at passing bees
and sniffs at the lavender scented breeze
then he warms his belly and starts to purr
with a little less winter stuck to his fur

It is all pastel,

the light, the music and I --


this very spring day.

Ice melts on the Lake.
Fish will move into shore soon.
Please bring back the dock.

Anxiously waiting.
I just bought some more tackle.
March, please be a lamb.

Walleyes taste the best.
Get the hot Cajun batter.
I feel a slight tug.

The rain pipes whisper
The spring’s secret in the wind
Let me catch it in my wings
And flutter it in the world
So everybody learns how to blossom.

It is the season for new buds and blossoms,
For a Mirabelle plum tree that blooms
Attracting bees that hum like softly rolling thunder
What a bright, white and scented wonder!

The presence of words spoken
weighs heavily on these trembling hands
I wish to take the clocks that overtook me
and inscribe in them all the lessons and stories
gifted to me by loved ones
back when I was too preoccupied with tomorrow
and everything I wanted to be
When this world was all, I thought about
and this life was all I could see
Occasionally, I find a hollow breath
and sometimes, it’s enough to fill these lungs
as I soak this anxiety in remembrance
Befriending grief and hiding from time
walking home in a new day’s cold
Shivers and chills, pulling apart my steps
With aching bones and a desire to rest
but forward and forward I go this time
knowing, wholeheartedly,
that seasons never last

It's seems way too early
for blossom
and for blossom to fall.
But who am I to judge?
I've never borne such beauty.