Spring is a time of renewal.
I’ve had more springtimes than years. Some kind of
daily vernal awareness dawns. Something changes
and there is a slight ache before the buds unfold,
yet it is all serene and beautiful.
There are lovers who do not speak much anymore.
God gives them each silence,
so they might hear. I’ve cycled through
a visceral aching each day
until it has become my close friend.
Then one day the pain betrays me and
I realize the ache I once loved,
is the promise of true love’s winter
wearing me down
to my spring heart.