I Spy

Playing I Spy with the seedlings
As I come down to their level,
My ear on the soil, new grass
Whispering in my ear
Stories of the long winter and
Their adventures in other realms
While their roots rested.

I spent the afternoon under the
Surprisingly hot April sun
On my hands and knees,
Crawling about from plant to
Plant watching new leaves
Spring forth. I see each moment,
Birthing into the next, anew.

First Buds

This is the lingering time between Winter and Spring.
When I kneel down to pick up a Quartz along the side of this
Quiet road, I see my first sign of the warming time:
The buds of wild strawberries poke their white heads
Above the fallen leaves from last November.
I smile with brilliant delight and welcome them forth.

Under this waning Equinox moon, the trees are still
Bare, my body is still covered in woolen layers.
But the quiet buds, yet to open, say Yes to a new
Season. The trees, and I, and my dog who trots
Far ahead of me, join in with a resounding Yes!
A small cloud ambles by, practicing for lazy summer days ahead.