Spring

spring
reveals itself
much like the whisper
of a church bell
in the early dawn,
not yet heard,
but buzzing with the vibration
of the coming light

it glitters
on waves of careless crests
the multitudes of grateful praises
unheard through the bleak bluster and salt
of winter
crying out
to the stranger sun
sparkling ever fondly
as the memory of youth

it busts
through aching windowpanes
the sweetness of its breath
bring burning tears of relief
its joyful canter knocks books off shelves,
lifts dust off floors,
and shakes sadness down
from cavernous corners

it grows
on rooted paths and tree branches
on spider webs and fingertips
on sunlit streams,
kitchen sinks,
and pairs of shoes
ever-revealing a lightness
in the heaviest of things,
never-concealing the grey
that came before it

it dances
a crazed and frenzied tango
of the elements
a passionate exposition upon the living
and those to come
it lunges for summer
and the promise of simplicity
echoing the cries of newborns
and the shadows of the deceased

it gives
like a dam held too long
tearing through stone which was laid down
thousands of years before
they are nothing but a whisper
an ancient speck
a forgotten tendril

spring explodes
cascading through valleys
a sun-kissed frenzy
giving birth to light
nourishing the womb of the earth
with the ease of youth
she lifts the veil
and shields the stars
with the universal certainty
that joy
prevails.