are a time of transitions
A porous border between winter and spring
A fluid line between death and life
Here in the North seeds are beginning to stir in the dark womb of Mother Earth
slowly loosen winter’s chilling grip
Permitting new shoots of hope
to emerge through death’s winter cloak
The circle of life continues
Your warmer rays caress mother earth to life again
Gently wakening the slumbering ones
And allowing some to sleep
Just a little longer
You flirt with us
letting the enticing kiss of new life stir us
but then you retreat
letting winter’s icy fingers pull cold white sheets over us again
reminding us that death
is always close
You play with us
while straddling both sides of this permeable fence of life and death
Back and forth you go
and all the while encouraging the warmer rays to push through again
Allowing buds to swell
Indian plum to sprout forth
Wild current to show her beautiful colours
A tinge of green appears
The trees begin to stir
Making ready the lessons for their new leaves that still are slowly wakening within the buds
Lessons so they can sing to us the songs of our future
The songs we so urgently need to learn
You gently call in a few birds
Some begin to sing their mating songs
The ocean sings the new tides
The orcas too sing while they look for food
Where is their food?
We hear these songs
but do we listen?
What are they telling us?
Who will sing these songs once they are all gone?
Who will show us the way?
Who will teach us our songs that we so desperately still need to learn?
Listen to the voices of the ancient ones while they still stand on our earth,
still swim in our waters
and still fly in our skies.
Listen to their songs of pleas
and their songs of hope
Thank-you March for your fluid nature
allowing hope to poke through winters cloak of death and stagnation
and for reminding us to listen to the songs of the ancient ones as they guide us ever onwards