March
First buds emerge in velvet cocoons
As dank, dark mornings transform
Into frost clad, bright, clean-aired dawns.
Grass laden heavy with dew,
Nectar of nature to sustain awakening creatures.
From deepest winter slumbers,
To drink deep the anticipation held in each drop.
Static in the air, in our hair, as crunched grasses
Make way for warming days, milky moons,
And pearlescent sun shards melting
The cold of winter soil.
Grass, long since recoiled after long summer
Parching, burnt and bruised,
Now tender and sweet, shoots pushing
Up through the loamy layers of frost bitten ground.
The scents of spring, almost imperceptible
Yet nonetheless I feel them set my belly to flight
The excitement for some unknown event,
As though a celebratory feast,
Honoured to be invited to.
Tingling in extremities, no longer from cold
But now in joy, in pleasure,
In the fruitfulness we know to come to pass,
When spring finally announces her arrival
Once more.
Copyright ©
Emma Goodridge-Hobson
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