Spring Only Sleeps by Wildflower

It was hard to tell she was there, laying still under the winter’s blanket sound asleep, taking her turn she rests so quietly.

Waiting her time through the short days and long nights, if the truth be known she was renewing, healing, growing.

Her name was Spring. When the time was right and she was ready to arise, she would stir and wiggle her toes. Stretching and yawning, she will sit up, ready to embrace the world again with energy, movement, color and song.

Rolling back snowdrift blankets, she will give birth to all the beauty and wonder she carried in her belly that belonged to life.

With her rising she would bring the warmth of her laughter, the brightness of her smile, the invitation of becoming and the bloom of being. As she rose from bed, her whispers would carry on the wind, “Come along little ones, awake my beloveds, it’s time to dance and sing! Breathe in life, the world around us is waiting, waiting for us and our new songs,” she would continue.

And with a hug and a kiss she shouts, “New life now awaken!”

She will leap and twirl into the meadow, swaying with the trees newly leafing, singing with the birds; she will hum with the bees in the warming sun and her scent will be that of the wildflowers.

And we will all join her in this grand awakening, for how could we resist this beauty and freedom for so long our souls have craved.

But for now we will wait and let what only winter’s rest wants to do, old things repairing and new life forming for us our roots and wings.