Spring
Spring
You come along paths that no one has ever walked before,
With hands full of rain and buds that have yet to be born,
And your footsteps unbury everything winter buried in its core,
Like an old song that wakes the dead and all the lost and worn.
Why do you return with eyes filled with shattered skies,
And your soul smelling of earth soaked through with longing,
As if between us there is neither time nor distance that denies,
And you place inside my chest a small sun, trembling, belonging?
Spring, if you come, come with everything that you are,
With your trill that shatters the night like a living bell,
Let green warm grass grow inside me near and far,
And let me forget I ever knew the desert's spell.
Bring me tender morning dew cupped in my open palms,
And let the dawn wash all forgetting off my skin,
Let me feel another life flowing through me, full of psalms,
Like a river that no longer knows what it means to freeze again.
Place warm and quiet nests inside my thoughts to stay,
And in my eyes kindle gentle flames of brand new light,
Pull out the winter that still aches inside my veins today,
And cover me with your sky like a garden blooming right.
You are both the tear and the laughter of the morning hour,
You are the sacred mud from which the white cherry trees grow,
You are life's oldest promise and its ever-returning power —
That after the cold the warmer days always find their way back home.
If you come, do not leave with the first yellow leaf that falls,
But stay inside me like an unfinished hymn that rings,
So that I too, beside you, may answer when life calls,
A stem that keeps on blooming higher, past all knowable things.
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