Spring

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Spring

 

Winter negotiates spring,
i
ts last watered drops, ice tears
nourish that which will be,
release of what no longer serves.

After snow, graupel,
downpour of rain, I see your
green blush arms reach
to azure sky. I await, I inscribe your
nod to a new found spring.

 

Awww. It’s spring, at least in part. NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo begins tomorrow.

I welcome this as much as longer days and quick melting snow and birdsong.

Won’t you join me?

 

Kiss me in the rain

They tell me I wouldn’t likenapofeature3
the rain if I lived it, in a place
where it doesn’t stop for days.

They tell me I don’t understand
because I am native to sun. It’s
not me that doesn’t understand.

There is a voice inside that
sings and sighs when rain
enfolds me.

Grey skies and pattering quiets
me, hushes the fuss, makes space
for me to listen.

I refuse umbrellas, let
water splash upon my
toes in sandaled feet.

I welcome the rain to touch
my skin, drench my hair,
clear away my sadness.

They don’t understand
rain like I do. Kiss me in
the rain, and I am yours.