bulbs pushing up from the rich mulch of autumn and winter
their brilliant colours, and promises of returning light and life
the abundance, and sacred hum of fertility.
sheep, heavy.. begin to lamb steamy, slippery black babies in the fields
there will be births and deaths, and it will all unfold, just so..
the skies are so deeply black at night, and knowing that just a few paces north- brilliant hues of green and purple dance across the night
mysterious and murky, and all the divine secrets of the universe colliding in one spilling of paint on the earths surface
sliding off into nothingness, as if it was never there at all… a hushed secret
it makes me ache, knowing that it’s right there, unreachable… like something in my bones and blood needs to witness the magnificence of northern lights
with all of these tangling roots.. stretching and sighing under foot
i’m brought back to planting my own roots down firmly
my feet to the earth, with a stretch and a heave and ho. cracks and pops in my young bones.
my fingers aching to dig into the rich soil and untangle some fine mess
to sow seeds and nourish our bodies in the summer sun
getting spun around dizzy, too caught up suddenly- in living in the future of ‘what ifs’
a gentle reminder
to simply be
and enjoy these gifts of today