Just this morning,
maybe of all mornings
with the sky full of spring rain
and the fire warmly burning
I turn to the edge of light
in the soft distance.
Cranky as a crow
yet open like a spring bulb
I go where I have not gone
for many years
to the rim of a canyon,
the edge of a waterfall,
above and below
the whole earth calling
in the sweet toned melody
of the stranger I once knew as joy.

encaustic painting by Eilish Hynes

Wisdom beneath the earth
born through the flowering tree
in the soft color of life,
bearing the burden of snow
as it rises with spring’s urge,
hungry for the light.

No telling what will appear
when the wide arc of earth
slowly turns to meet the sun.
A muddy tangle of clawing vines,
the sweeping bend of a broad river
or the flow of peace
from one darkened window
waiting with thanks
for the coming light.

My eyes so full of plum trees
and their pale pink beauty,
the weight of gravity
seems to fall away.
Rooted to the ground
old branches swell
losing their dark comfort,
daring to appear
in the gray March sky.
Each flower born
from the earth’s
deep knowledge,
unveiled and risen
in the warmth of first light.