The earth is stirring; brave crocuses
and stalwart daffodils poke up their heads,
shivery, in response to thin February sun.
It is too soon for lilacs or violets.
The shrubbery is still in late winter's grip,
longing for rain that does not come.
An invisible bell tolls the changing
of the seasons, each year a miracle,
each year eyes gladdened
by small, poking buds,
by small, poking buds,
my heart singing itself into
one more season in the sun.
for Shay's Word List, contemplating T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland. I used six of the words.
Spring lifts all our spirits, doesn't it? I like the invisible bells.
ReplyDeleteAh, yes, each year spring is a miracle. After a winter, new life. Truly makes one's heart sing!
ReplyDeleteThis is so lovely, Sherry. Such a glad greeting of the seasons. Simple but heart-stirring. I love it!
ReplyDeleteHappiness and warmth of the words make me want to sing. Thanks for the "invisible bell". Another beauty, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteI like this poem Sherry. Especially the way you used the word "bell". You used more words than I did. Smarty pants!! :)
ReplyDelete"Each Year is A miracle" love that line - so rich . Well done
ReplyDeleteSherry, Love your choice of words for this earth magic, even in "the thin February sun."
ReplyDeleteLove those brave crocuses and stalwart daffodils shivering toward the thin February sun! Beautiful seasonal poem.
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