He not busy being born

Late May the grass by the pond’s grown tall where the frogs like to sing and screw

and the song draws the dark down with the dew and we are all awash in it, spring!

A medley of smells of cedar and pine a rough smell both dirty and clean:

Look how the roots of those big trees bear down like knuckles on the ground

Listen to the first birds then the tapestry of song they make together

See the young ferns unfurl with the quiet grace of a snail…

And everywhere I am here amid all this, my feet on the ground and planted

The mind diminished, my thoughts hushed, both rooted and lifted by these trees.

Spring, in you I am born and from you made full again.

This tapestry of song, this celebration of life, through this thread I am connected, spring!



Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: ,

7 replies

  1. Beautiful – draws me right “in” – especially the trees knuckling down to the ground. You seem quite connected, Bill!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Wow, Spring – engrossing inspiration to many thinking eyes through the ages.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You invoke Kenneth Grahame for me, which is a beautiful thing. Thank you, Bill.
    “All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.”

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s such a nice line David thanks for sharing! Happy I can make for a nice trigger, that’s cool…makes me smile!

      Like

      • Belatedly picked up on the Dylan reference and am grateful for that too.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Hey you get the prize! It’s funny, my mom messaged me and let me know it’s Dylan’s 81st birthday today, coincidentally. And I let her know the title of the song and was fun to say it’s alright ma I’m only tweeting.

        Like

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