"spring equinox" by Peter Blue Cloud
Now day and night sit balanced.
From a silence that seemed forever,
the first booming crash of break-up
thunders from the river. Smiling,
an elder oils the handle of a hoe
and listens for the great, warm wind.
Creation is a song, a trickling become
a gurgling, chucling water voice.
Winds which bend the snows to melting
carry clouds of rain storms on shoulder.
Green islands appear on turtle's back
grasses long asleep beneath the snow.
Dawn of a glorious season, flowers
in merging, undulating waves of color
The taste of strawberries, anticipate
in their blossoms, the rich and fertile
smells of soil we bend to,
breaking the ground for summer's corn.
Peter Blue Cloud
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