KristyWes

All The Old Left Behind

April is National Poetry Month, so I may be sharing some poems here.  Or I may not.  (I'm so unpredictable!)  But I will definitely share at least one, and here it is:

Heart Spring

Often, even before Easter,
Last summer’s deep
Seeds rebel
At their long frozen sleep,
Split, swell
In the dark under
Ground, twist, dance
To a new beat,
Push through a lace of old
Pale roots.

Invited by an unseen heat
They spearhead up, almost
As though, suddenly,
Their tender shoots
Find the loam light as air
Not dense, not sodden cold

I saw a crocus once
In first flight
Stretching so fast
From a late snow
(a boundary just passed,
A singular horizon close below)
the white cap melted
On its purple head.

Such swift greening of
Leaf wings and stalk
Was clear celebration
Of all sweet springs combined,
Of sungold,
Smell of freshness, wind
First-time felt,
Light lifting, all new things,
All things good and right,
And all the old
Left behind

by Luci Shaw, from Polishing the Petoskey Stone