Just Spring

Drawing with the sloth friend this evening.  Spring was showing its colors in force today, even though the rain is coming (perhaps that is the true face behind today's masquerade). Cherryblossoms are bursting into bloom with radiant pink petals, and the dogwoods accepted the challenge, and effloresced in beautiful whites, and the greengreengreen is trickling out in greater quantities, and the blueblueblue of the sky, why, sometimes this is all a person needs.

hibernation, then, is all
this soul gets and remembers
The freezer too long, friends,
until now, I hear the flute of pan
fawning over the land - listen
the cedar bellows though faintly
listen and you'll hear echoes of nymphs
and dryads giggling with the leaves in the trees
and it's rising, wildflowers caressing the hillsides
crescendo, as the witch's white hand recedes
cold lessens and the world is all puddles and glee
trumpeting, spring into dance the world is blossoming
birds fluttering home and building their nests with the bees
buzzing warily across the newborn earth, and somewhere a star
shines, and passes over a land whose bitterness needs passing over
Immanuel, resurrect in the baptism and christening of vernal verdancy
Floating like cottonwood on the breeze, breathe, the world is whole again.





Some of my favorite ee cummings poems are on spring: in just and I also like the balloonman. I wrote a short story for a competition (and lost) using the balloonman as a basis. Someday, I'll have to return to that short and edit it a bit. I think it had a little potential. Well, the week is coming, and sleep is gearing up in my gut. Back to ye olde hibernation.