Springtime series 8

And when the birds return 

I am filled with bone-melting relief

Each morning they sing and I wake just to hear them

Each feather from their soft, round bodies is a celebration

The blues and greens and reds and jet blacks

That soothe the loud drum of my severe winter heartbeat 

Into the melody of soft green shoots, 

Hesitantly poking their shy leaves into the sunlight

I try not to fall in love with each stranger I meet

But when the sap is rushing to my leaves

And each of their eyes holds the secrets to the universe

Not loving is asking my life blood to halt in its tracks

Cease rushing up the cambium of my flushing skin

To cease the unfurling of my feral green leaves

To cease the blooming of my deafening yellow flowers

My body is the springtime and 

Thawing is the most beautiful and terrifying thing I have felt 

This year