The songs I sing
to keen budding branches
filled with winter
and darkness of root,
I silently sing them,
the trees only hear me
as they ready to open
in cold March air.
From out of the earth-tomb
the beauty of color,
feast for the sky gods
and we in our task
to break the old crust
and rise like spring flowers
into the garden
quicksilver and fair.
We “in our task” are ready and willing!
Breaking the old crust as I listen to the trees who are ready to open. It’s all happening!
Beautiful. Thank you.
Lovely!
The orchestration of this miraculous season, beautifully caught by a poet.
What a wonderful Easter gift about re-birth!
Lovely, lyrical, full of the springing forth!
I hear a lilting 6/8 rhythm behind this — bardic, triumphant, and yes, Irish! Beautifully done!
so beautiful, exactly what I needed today…
“I silently sing them,
the trees only hear me
as they ready to open”
Love this photo that expresses in visual form your beautiful words of spring!
The Water of Winter-the source that makes things green. Beautiful photo and poem. Thanks, brother.
The trees will up root and branch out, on time to provide shelter for birds arriving from the south, gulls, blackbirds, geese, duck. Not to mention the earnest intention when these winged ones arrive. Earth clock keeps tie season moving forward. Pairing, breeding, nesting, birthing, teaching. Easter is more of an ancient celebration of this life!-rather than a resurrection.
How joyous the lilting cadence of your silent song. Thank you Don.
We carry the joyous song deep within that vibrates with the trees, birds, rivers, yes songsmiths we are and our joy is to chant with the sky gods that greet the awakening.