A Poem for Spring
#spring #poem
When I walk
I can feel that we are too heavy
Quietly, the earth bends her back
Beneath the weight of things
Too weary to watch
As men cast their fishing lines into sky
Shove stars into pockets
Steal and sell
What is left of her
And winds
Drawn lines across forests and mountains and deserts
War is so simple
And so loud
Listen
The ground is trying to breathe again
Overhead, birds flap into formation
And the monarch is on its way home
A fluttering mass of delicate orange wings
The frozen lake moans and opens itself up
and the heavy snow
and the farmer
This is where God’s order may be seen
not in highways and laws and currency
but in the things we haven’t touched
In our willingness to collapse
So that the body may be rebuilt
with something stronger
There is nothing wrong with breaking
With turning up palms to find
that your hands are empty
This is where the wildflowers grow
Where we can hear the wind coming
before we can feel it
and we begin to see God
everywhere