Blossoms tease the senses now,
Budding as they are into first bloom,
Predicting to the birds
They might soon have places to hide,
And to the bees, some work to do.
To we who watch it all unfold,
A promise and a reminder
One more round begins.
And isn't that the message?
Everything, everything, has a rhythm
And--even us--
Goes in cycles,
Which always, always,
Begins and ends
In this moment.
RSS Feed
