My blood reaches
for the warmth of Spring.
The smell of green onions
growing
beneath a willow dancing in the breeze
The coolness of freshly turned earth
The sensual party of turning soil over seeds
Sowing, to reap
My blood reaches
Toward the sun
My skin, a million zillion happy cells
soaking up the warmth
that feels like life
health, happiness
absorbed
directly from some Universal center.
I will ride the black horse into the edge of the sea
Letting my feet dangle, relaxed.
And beneath the roar of wind and salt water
Is the beat of my heart in rhythm with the moving sand.
My blood reaches until it is pink beneath my skin,
My face flushed.
Myth and Mare and Me.
Today I’m allowed to write me with a capital “M”.
It’s spring and we all expand.
We feel the burning, stirring desire to “do”, to move,
to touch the face of the sun in Spring.
Paul said,
April 9, 2009 at 1:45 am
What a gorgeous fullsome Spring poem, Mimi. Every line sings with life just as a spring poem should and the scene on the horse is wonderfully done.