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New England Spring
So many things are changing
I say,
green appears and disappears
snow arrives and departs,
the sun is reckless, glaring
one minute, invisible the next,
me so easily derailed by each shift
which you don’t seem to notice
as you stand, arms outstretched
embracing every new arrival,
a roving cloud or a redwing blackbird,
the chitter of new buds, a single noisy crow.
Last night I watched you bask
in the full Worm moon
its silvery light streaming down
the worn grooves of your bark
a thaw signaling spring
as it has all of your eighty plus years.
Uneasy with uncertainty
I flinch at the unexpected
while you persist, trusting your roots
to the tender mercy of wind and rain.
The song sparrows are back, the wren
has returned and I heard a hummer
just above the snowdrops ringing
your bright green mossy lap
where I settle down, leaning against
your rough trunk
to know what you have to teach me
about faith.
~ Emily Blair Stribling
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