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Personal Note:

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Poem

Spring returns with vigor while a rigor clings my stilted throat 
Stings my eyes to bleed. There in the garden, 
Within a pale and vibrant blend of words, 
I see so little language left for me.
Oh Sky! So busy now supporting bird on wing.  
Ahh! hummingbirds return to dance again this spring.
That Kaaww I used to imitate and say I hated 
Now as lilting tune as I would know.
Of late, the chickadees, but first an english robin 
Bobbing out a frisky tune, splendiferously repeating 
His same greeting every June. 
I press my hand to glassed pane with fingertips in hope 
That I may still the scene.
Far less reach than I would brave become 
Had I more words within my heart to sum.
Oh Clouds! Your white extrudes small silhouettes, 
Hunting falcons, black. Now back in search of nesting things. 
Such bursting forth with life this season brings.
I see them all through open window now flung wide! 
A newfound stride in all those things of spring, 
Wet with their enthusiasm and eagerness of gifting, 
Drifting with my own awareness toward the summer’s warm embrace. 
Every upturned face a grin the wind is pinned upon. 
My eyes are filled to overflow with every dripping moment I can bear. 
I am with them there in all the glory of each story,
But I have naught to say and ought to stay away from such a view, 
Where language drips from many tongues at once, 
Spilling into every room in floods that cannot be expunged. 
It leaves my lips excoriated, plunged inside a quiet crevice lacking words. 

This human heart so small it cannot near contain 
Such love that tongues cannot pronounce, nor eyes explain.

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