A poem fitting for the season

It's days like this that I sit in eager anticipation of the warmer seasons, and look forward to when everything is alive again.


Anticipating Equinox

Curled up tight in quiet hibernation,
young ones begin to feel the warmth
of the sun as he spreads his hands across the earth
All that he touches receives light and life,
even the shadows nod toward his splendor,
and night retreats from his path
Can you sense what they do,
the coming of equinox?

When those who sleep will be roused,
stretching limbs upward and downward;
when those in dark places will lift their heads
and be birthed as newborn babes-
It is then that colors take the stage
quiet at first in budding whispers
passing rumors of paintings so wonderful
that you and I long to behold merely days away

What is it that will come?
The sun follows his course and stays aloft,
coaxing children from the places they hide
Make yourself attentive;
can you hear their hymns?
Soft words of joy,
relinquished from a long, oppressive sleep
to crescendo forth into hues of praise

I cannot help but be captivated,
tempted toward rapture and carried away by their song,
and moved by their efforts to grasp light
Tiny fingers spread skyward,
longing to be free of mud, dirt, and darkness
Can you see their jubilant straining,
faces full of color and mouths full of song?
Can you empathize with their liberation?

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