Song of the South: April Showers

This seems an appropriate poem for this time of year in the south-land.

Embrace the beauty of this day.

Your progressive redneck preacher,

Micah

 

April Showers
pollen 0

Green dust
Sprinkled upon ground lies in sheets like fresh fallen snow
That blanket warm with new life
Replaces the shimmering white
Of frost upon grass
That like fragile glass once crunched underfoot
In music of fragility

pollen on furniture

It lies green and thick upon the hillsides
Touching the accoutrements of
Our human accomplishments
Our anthills of asphalt, steel, and pressed wood
Busy with our scurrying forms
Buzzing with electric motion

pollen

Green fingers fall soft
Upon us
Awakening us as from restless dreaming
With the throbbing pulse
Of Spirit song flowing through it
As her mothering presence
Labors amidst us to birth new life
Like butterflies emerging
From empty shells
pollen 4
Wiped away in filmy layers on my fingers
It reminds me of my own
Tumult, scurrying, and frantic fear
Which sets the anthill of my heart
To constant motion
My feelings blown like birdseed on the breeze
Unable to settle

pollen allergy

Whispering to me how
It is not some silver hued sign of threat
That I feel
Hovering over my soul’s horizons
As my tortured pasts try to teach me
But instead
Labor pains
The Mothering Spirit endures in me
So some new spring may dawn within
Breaking my long winter’s chill

 

 

 

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