ON BEING A TREE

Has any poet not found themselves writing verse around Spring?  Well, probably, I can’t really imagine not being pulled into the beauty and wonder of winter austerity turning into lush, vibrant green.  The pushing up of bright flowers, The  over all energy that, for me, flushes my body with exuberance and joy as each day passes leafing the trees and greening the land.  I honestly feel like a tree releasing all that pent up energy bursting forth.

Spring blooming. Be this tree…

My core sap slowed to winter’s freeze

Feels the thaw of Springs becoming

My roots stretch into the deep dark

Reaching my thirst for the sky’s

shower drink swelling the earth

I shudder to the revival of my reach

for the Sun in the unfolding of my tender

 wait in leafs of green and shivering twig

A welcome to each sparrow and tit mouse

each squirrel that scamps up and down my skin

in exuberance with fuss and chatter.

Spring calls me to life

moistens my land

warms my sap

reaches deep within

to call me forth

to awaken.