Intimate Season

Spring does not bring change
It simply continues
The constant doing
And undoing of things

If I am to fully let myself feel it
The giddy heady longer days
The forward motion
Of birds, and grass, and sun
I must have thrown myself in
To the depths of winter
Covered in the stings of pelting ice
Or huddled in the dark, hibernation
Of isolation and waiting
While snowdrifts piled outside

I did
I let the seasons in
And let myself be with them

So today I sing and dance
With spring
Because yesterday
I fell with leaves
And let myself
Lay dormant in the drift

— April Resnick


Painting: “Seasons” by Dilorom Abdullaeva

~ by April on March 20, 2013.

2 Responses to “Intimate Season”

  1. Love your words

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