The Sounds of Springtime – Auroraboros

The birds are singing to one another now,
They do not sing to us,
But we are listening.

New buds are growing slowly on the ends of branches,
Displacing ever so slightly the air around them,
Coming to our ears as a low hum,
And we wonder:
To how many monsoons could this movement be traced
Many years from now?

The water runs slowly but steadily from the melting patches of ice and snow,
Carrying with it
Matter in decay and colonies of microscopic life that have grown and died,
Food and hydration for the next generations,
One in the same flow.

We breathe,
In and out and…
A smile;
We are happy,
We are…

The process has begun.

The world begins
To awaken once more,
Eyes opening to
Blue skies;
Distant clouds gather but
For now there is sun.

In bloom,
The world waits
For you.

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Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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