The poetry of Spring

Prior to my treadmill incident, my world was different. Instead of dressing changes and obsessing over the timing of antibiotics and analgesics, I was contemplating Spring.

Mid-month, I was reflecting on the symbolism of spring: my personal renewal and the possibilities that letting go might bring. I came up with this little poem.  I held onto it with hopes of improving it a bit more but nothing more came…except the fall.

In Spring

I take note of my surroundings. Blossom-filled trees, and buds emerging from the tips of bare branches.

I hear the sound of bat hitting ball and parents offering their enthusiastic cheers of encouragement.

On my front porch, a dove builds a nest to keep safe the hope of  future generations.

Soon, we will ALL rejoice — as roses open, eggs crack open, and new life emerges.