Spring’s Fingers

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 I feel spring’s fingers brush my skin,

Greening softly, slow and sure.

Something in me begins to thin,

A quiet shift, a gentle cure.  


The earth awakens first, then I-

A breath, a pause, a tender start,

As snow dissolves from tearful sky,

And warmth begins to fill my heart.  


Bare branches blush against the blue,

As if they remember how to hope.

From darkened ground, I see me too-

A courage rising, broadening scope.  


The sun lingers longer in my sky,

Its brightness teaches me to grow,

That I don’t need permission to fly,

Just trust the light that starts to glow.  


Birdsongs return to fill my ears,

Their melodies reclaim my voice,

In softest whispers, shedding fears,

Reclaiming choice, reclaiming choice.  


Daffodils wake, bold and bright,

Tulips lift their painted heads-

I learn that joy is mine by right,

And color blooms where hope treads.  


The river runs more freely now,

Reflecting dreams and brighter streams,

I let the past just drift somehow-

No drowning, only gentle dreams.  


Children’s laughter in the breeze,

Bears witness to my rebirth,

Life’s sweet promise, Yes, you can-

A fearless bloom upon the earth.  


Lambs are born, so bright, so free,

Teaching tenderness anew-

Spring’s soft truth resides in me,

A life made beautiful and true.  


This is my season, fierce and kind,

A woman’s bloom, resilient, free-

Reclaiming warmth I’ve always mined,

In spring’s embrace, I choose to be.



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