Springtime Invocation

In the darkest months of winter, it feels

Like we are stuck in our cozy

Glass snow globes, happily bound inside

Like porcelain dolls.

Pulled like puppets on strings…

Rearranging the home,

Rearranging the inner world

And the outer one,

rearranging and creating space

Creating beauty from

old bones.

Cooking, cleaning, making love,

hanging with ravens & crows,

Low and cacaawing, low and cacaawing…

Singing their ominous songs,

Hanging dead flower bouquets

On the walls.

In the season of solitude, we take a look

At our own rhythms… what are

Those rhythms, that fill you with energy

And life force, seeds of ideas

aching to bloom, aching to express, manifesting

Your dream world–

What are those rhythms, and how

do you amplify them?

~

The trees have eyes

And watch us love, lose, cry, die, reborn

To a fallen star, just to

Die again– sunk into the dirt

With the maggots, as dust

As stardust, seduced by fairies–

Moss silences the fall to earth;

Holds us softly there.

~

How remarkable- some seasons, we are so

Deep in the mud, wiggling with the

Maggots and worms,

Cosmos raging on above us–

And then the next season, you are

the boldest, loveliest, most yellow sunflower

Sensual, shaking with color, reaching

Straight for the sun– born of the

Very same mud you emerged from

Chillin’ with other sun-flowers and moon-flowers,

Our kind.

~

Like the seasons kill the crops,

We are also skeleton trees, dancing in the dark.

Every couple of seasons, just like the golden leaves

fall to the floor, stay there a while,

shrivel up, cry, die, be reborn a couple of times.

The kind, gracious mother that took

You in all winter, then spits you out,

Re-born a baby sprout

to plunge up boldly

Into the atmosphere.

The earth is cracking open,

The rose buds are cracking open,

The skies are cracking open,

Just as you, and I, and our whole collective

are cracking wide open

With the brilliant spring.

By Amber Marie