The Hidden Spring
It is New Year’s Day, and the coming spring
Is a joyful trickle, heard but not seen
Where ground squirrels burrow and woodpeckers sing
Just down the hill in a darkened ravine
Where desire paths lead, deep and dizzying
In sapphire skies, a hawk is circling
Where has it been that I have never been?
How can I reach those heights and take wing
When I can’t even brave the depths now to glean
Water or wisdom from the hidden spring?
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