Vernal Wisdom

And this faint pulsing
under our paper-skin
as it coils through our
splitting bones.


The pieces of us,
as they dwell as
flowers, the
blossoms drifting 
on the breeze -this
array of color to our 
winter dullness,
these things building,
nesting, in our soft souls
as though the fertility of spring
lie everywhere.
As under our feet,
the earth sighs
in a muted breeze blowing
across the green,
it rolls like waves.


In our veins,
the eternal spring
-the collective humankind-
flows with strong semblance 
to the rivers,
out from the mountains
to the rocky-edged seas,
misty in the early mornings
of a new vernal equinox. 


The thudding through us,
feeling close to the earth,
the cold, winded chill.
The knowledge  to know
it means living,
the wisdom to know
it is life.