SpringTime Views & Blues
Strange. How spring emerges
Subtle and slow. Little
by little each new day
Simultaneously, it seems so
SUDDEN. One week the
yard is a skeletal maze
of emaciated trunks
and bare bones branches
You can see right through
them, straight into the horizon
But wake up and walk into
the kitchen. Peer out
the window; and see
a sea of blooms and blossoms
of freshly minted green
green leaves overtaking
Revitalizing. When dead
empty space becomes filled
with vibrant breathing life
Busy bustling development and
now you cannot see beyond
the first tree or shrub
abounding and hardy
Surrounded, you are now
stuck. here. in THIS
emerging moment
Strange.
Strange. How time passes
subtle and slow. Little
by little each new day
Simultaneously, it seems so
SUDDEN. One day you’re
a teen with 1,000 friends
and not a care in the world
A moment later, you
start college or a job too
young. Things unfold slowly.
Daily. Quickly. Slowly. Rapidly.
A moment later, you
are in your thirties, staring
at yourself in the mirror, peering
at your offspring in the
eyes QUESTIONING EVERYTHING
Everything you ever did
Everything you ever were
Everything you have become
Strange.
You see your dead spaces
including the ones now filled
with unexpected new growths
A moment later you are in your
40’s having just figured out how
to live your own best version: YOU.0
You have eight friends, and
every care in the entire world
50’s you have enough lived
experience to become a mentor
60’s you finally understand
romance. And maybe even love
70’s and … where did the time
go! Better hurry up and live
before it’s too late. Better
hurry up and give, because
you leave it all behind
at the swinging gate, the line
that separates those existing
within the structures of time
and those who have been
delivered into the infinite
where time no longer
means anything
Strange.
Strange. How right now
is when time means
anything. If not everything
Time is not a renewable resource
Strange how time passes. Strange
It seems like years ago
was just yesterday, but yesterday
seems like it was
years and years ago
And within every passing year
Autumn and new death have occurred
That swinging gate,
ceaselessly,
sideways undulates
And within every passing year
Spring and new life have emerged
