Spring

by W Roger Carlisle

birds beckon
colors burn bright
Sunshine wails golden
raising our arms lifts the mist
calls bursting buds to open and sing
we dance our pajama dance with friendly robins
Anything is possible in this fellowship of trees
bathing in rivers of God's light
My body shakes with an electric fire
I am drunk on Spring

Maybe night is about to come
calling, but right now
the sun is still high in the sky.
It's half-past October, the woods
are on fire, blue skies stretch
all the way to heaven.

Of course,
we know winter is coming, its thin
winding sheets and its hard, narrow bed.
But right now, the season's fermented
to fullness, so slip into something
light, like your skeleton; while these old
bones are still working, my darling,
feel that spring in your step.

New and beautiful growth, be growth for us, too.
We have spent too long in the winter of our lives,
addictions, diversions, mind-altering substances
filtering the sunshine and fading the flowers.
Now our lives feel full and alive.

W Roger Carlisle is a 75-year-old, semi-retired physician. He currently volunteers and works in a free medical clinic for patients living in poverty. He grew up in Oklahoma and was a history major in college. He has been writing poetry for 11 years. He is currently on a journey of returning home to better understand himself through poetry. He hopes he is becoming more humble in the process.

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