Trudi Petersen
Rites of spring

That
Song.
Listen.
Natures score,
Fibonacci curved.
Soft humming rhythms of the earth,
Dance salt spangled seas. Crystal crusts unfreeze. Words crack, thaw,
Melt rivulets of language, born of ancient tongues, to flood the roots of trees, drench dry lees.
The green heart beats and Gaia sings, a harmony sweet
For winters indolent retreat.
Here, at seasons turn,
We observe
The rites
Of
Spring