The first chorus of Spring:
a rising voice,
a surprise of colour.
A choir of crocus
soprano above the greyness
of tired Winter’s retreat.
Like a nest of newly hatched blackbirds
beaks agape, begging for food
these yellow petals reach out
for the early sun.
Now, green blades rise
from the death of earth -
a promise of Easter’s repair
for a broken world
and the return
of a God
who never went away.
3 comments:
Just this morning I saw my first robin of 2010, standing by the road as if waving to me. Loved this poem, sighed and smiled at your last lines.
Hope "Springs" eternal! I loved the analogy between the realization of Spring's rebirth and the hope of our own.
Now that you mention it... they do look like they have their little green arms raised in praise!
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