Earth was written in the spring
By a soft shade sunrise creaking quietly awake
From an eternity of hibernation, each ray
Slowly caressing this new beginning to speak.
Blooming words pushed up from fresh soil:
White roses, daffodils, iris and, rising taller,
Red tulips, a declaration of eyes opening and
Smiles emerging in pastel blushes.
Each year this poem is read aloud
To a soundtrack of tremolo birdsong
That grows in intensity to a burst of violins
As we are reminded to shed skin, open arms,
Free our limbs and start again, this time,
With hope.
Inspired by: http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/lucky-thirteen/
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