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A Bag Full of
Spring
I was complaining that I had had enough of winter one February,
and a friend went out and found some plants that had come up out of their
winter sleep and were blooming and glowing and perfuming the air in a glorious
way. It was my first experience with Witchazel, which I will have to try and
plant sometime. This was the poem inspired by the plastic bag full of
"Spring" that I was given that day.
Yesterday, I put the voice of laughter's prayer
Into a box and gave it to you.
My soul smiled like a single flame dancing
In the coldness of winter's air.
Losing nothing, I give you singing
To remind me that I can and you can
And I felt warmth in my soul today
In the coldness of winter's air.
This morning I woke tasting sunlight
And through my love's window, blue sky
Curled up next to him, my soul purred
In the dampness of spring's air.
And then you came with the wind's knocking
With a bag full of springtime to give me
And the scent touched my sleeping soul
In the dampness of spring's air.
© Anne Cross, 1997
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