Monday, March 14, 2022

Cusp

A Spring Equinox Poem


Poem ©2022 by Joyce Mason





I am a bud lingering

in my grave of soil,

past and future lives merged,

barely moving at a snail’s pace,

becoming.


Winter, a weighted blanket

of frozen motion clings

and ducks the sun

that melts into tomorrow.

 

The season of suspended animation was so long;

past memories have been wiped

and renewal is a broken hope …

 

… and yet

like clockwork

the wheel turns,

sprouts push out of their earthen crypt

and another spring reaches its tipping point,

bursting into being

bringing us with it.

Reincarnation.


~~~

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