Spring is on the horizon.
I can smell it –
beyond ice and salt and eight-foot banks, it fills my lungs,
this warming air of early morn.
And I hear it –
in the tinkling of winter, melting from the roof, the window, the porch, the pines,
where black-cap flits from bough to bough with its
chip-chip-chip and
chickadee-dee-dee.
And I feel it now –
within my bones, my soul – the longing ache to touch the earth,
to dig down deep, these fingers reach for life, for soil, for
sustenance and loam
to grow hope for another year.
Another year to live, to love,
to serve, to bless, to give, to commune,
and to be amazed one more time
by all I can learn from a pole bean.
©2024 Sarah Elizabeth Moore
From my heart to yours,
