Tag Archives: spring

The Way Flowers Awaken


It never occurred to me
that this process could be at all gentle,
but now that it is slowly dawning on me,
gentleness is what I want.
I want to transform gradually,
wake up to the light
the way flowers awaken in spring—
when the ground softens and warms
and there is no other choice
but to blossom.

Come Alive Spring


It doesn’t matter how much the winter kills you,
and how dead you are by the end of it,
how pale, how lifeless, how skeletal,
how deeply and quietly you lie
beneath the frozen surface of the earth—
when spring comes,
there is this perennial, irresistible force in you,
that wakes up,
comes alive,
and sighs with the joy and the delight
of living and blossoming,
of rekindling the vital movement
of air in lungs
and blood in veins
and power in voice.
Come alive,
come alive,
come alive again.
Spring is here,
and it’s time to come out of hiding.
it’s time to live again,
so wake up,
and join me in the garden.
Let’s tend to one another’s blossoming
and celebrate what we grow
in the light of our love and joy.

The Spring Always Returns


Looking forward,
I’m going to choose my way
instead of having another
humanoid choose for me.
Or better yet,
why don’t I let the power
of the Universe choose for me?
Oh that’s right,
the power of the universe
is within me.
I’m going to gravitate
toward that which feels good,
that which invigorates, renews,
inspires, uplifts
and gives me the experience
of living in the direction of my destiny.
I’m going to trust my intuition to guide me.
I’m going to allow the blossoming,
as naturally as the spring
always returns after winter.

Promise of Spring


I think I’m ready
to try to pretend
that one day I might
learn to forgive
I’ll make believe
that one day
I won’t feel like
some part of me
is missing.
Yes, wholesome blessings,
a woman celebrating
the month before the 41st anniversary
of her birth
watching the earth
beginning to green
with the promise of spring.

NaPoWriMo Day 13: Sweet Flowers


All around me the cherry tree rains down its soft white petals
and springtime in full swing dances a harmony of every color.

In the winter time, I close my eyes and dream of white and yellow
crocuses, the first signs of spring and everywhere, sweet flowers.

Now, spring in full bloom, movement, buzzing from buds abounding
I hear the call to blossom myself and listen for a deeper tone resounding.

Something about the sun shining and fat bees hovering on the breeze
as I eat my lunch, everywhere it’s alive, singing in the blinding sun.

No more words. No rhymes. No measure or meter or time.
Just spring and sun and breeze and life and sweet sweet flowers.


At first I wanted to follow the NaPoWriMo prompt for the day. Then I saw that I would need to put a lot more time into choosing a phrase or a group of sounds that bore repeating. Perhaps a ghazal will come tumbling out another time…

NaPoWriMo Day 28: Long Lines


For today’s NaPoWriMo prompt we were encouraged to write a poem with long lines. We were given Whitman as an example; I took a look at his “Song of Myself” and discovered his lines were twenty syllables long.  The Irish poet Ciaran Carson was also mentioned. He takes his inspiration in part from the seventeen syllable haiku and strives to make each line clear, simple and concise like a haiku… Wow, okay…hmmm.  Long lines, huh?  I think I can do this.


It is Spring, almost May, and chilly
for a spring day–
and so I wore a sweater.

The morning dark, early the skies were gray
and continued this way
up until noon.

I sighed in dismay, and shivered
watching the trees sway
against the somber spring sky.

But then I watched my sun
run the ball, laughing at play
delightful noise and chaos.

In spite  of the cold mind-mood
spring weather I can stay
and call this moment precious.

Listen to This Life that is Ours


When the redbud, radiant in her new pink gown
places her arms around the forlorn forsythia and asks
Friend, stay awhile yet,

When the saucer magnolia
cries soft pink tears that pool in the grass
and spill overflowing into the road,

When the chilly wind stirs the wisteria
and frees the cherry blossoms
from their distant perch

When winter’s icy fingers still clutch
at the robes of the Goddess Spring
who longs to break free of the chains
and dance in the warmth of awakening–

When the green mist of rebirth
splashes the forest with promises
of incalculable abundance

Then, friend,
then let us go by the river
and listen to this life that is ours.