Read this short spring poem to celebrate your connection to every season (especially the one you're in right now). It might just wake you up to the flowers that haven't even bloomed yet, and the ones that haven't bloomed in centuries. When you're here, now, you're part of everything that has ever been or will be.
“Where is the dust that has not been alive?” — Edward Young, The Complaint: Or, Night-thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality (1742)
I guess what amazes me most is the permanence of everything. Yes, every thing has its moment and passes away, but then again if every thing is in a constant state of change, there’s still this essential connection that underlies all things. Eternity.
Here's a short spring poem to plant peace in your soul, and every step you take. Let yourself be moved by the stillness of simple things and the life energy that's behind everything.
A Spring Poem
Do you ever wonder if the
Silence wants to be breathed into?
If the winds long to be seen?
I pause to watch the trees move
And I hear them speak instead—
A breeze conducting; leaves singing.
I stop to take it all in
And feel, rather, that
Life is the one breathing me.
I stop to be seen and heard by
She nurtures me here, in a newborn spring.
The rain washes the winter away and
The sun makes way for buds and hopes to bloom.
A bleak goodbye greets itself with a welcome.
A season never tires of its own desire
To see life anew.
I am still and wonder,
How could I be always new?
The winds have shifted and
The world changes color, but the
Life is the same.
The rivers are different but the
Water is the same.
Just as it enters, so
It shall leave.
And it comes back again as itself,
I watch the world and wonder at the
Greatest reason we are the same.
Nature shows me how to
Change into the truth,
Again and again—
Each season as true as the next;
Each discovery as ancient as the last.
Oh, the treasures a winter brings
To its spring.
How sweet it is to feel that something is
Both new and old.
The earth and sky love to rest and play and grow
Together; theirs is a dialogue of unity.
Pushing through the dirt and cold, the
Seedlings and I rise to greet the sun.
We remember that what is planted
Under a grateful sky belongs to
My heart grows too big
For my body;
The whole universe becomes my
For a while, I’ll stay,
At ease in the great abundance
That hurried eyes don’t see.
. . .
Which part of this poem is your favorite?
Tell me in the comments. I read every single one, and I'd love to know!
P.S. Want to celebrate this season with something you can hold? Go visit my shop for prints of handwritten poems and other words of hope and heart. If you ever forget what a gift it is to be here at all, you'll have something to remind you. Something to hold on to.