On The Verge

meanwhile earth keeps dancing

There is a call
even the smallest creature hears.
Senses come alive,
alert to the quiet birthing of color
and the subtle rise of fragrance
in the tumultuous tango
of voracious pre-vernal winds.

The icy ache of dormancy
bows in pardon
and with chivalrous intent
opens the door
to the Lady’s lush warming.

Awake, all blessed
with pumping blood
and fluttering breast!
Drain the last drops
of winter’s wine from your glass.
Come dance on the verge
of Spring's sweet seduction! 

Needing to pull from the archives today as energetic challenges due to health, work and the world have kept fresh creative flow at bay. This piece feels true to my observations when I was out and about this afternoon. I hope you are finding some consolation in the beauty of Soul and Season.