My heart sings with the coming of spring. Like, the soil, as the wetness is warmed and awakened, I feel alive as if for the first time. It is enough to drive me towards… poetry.

All things contain both silver and shadow.

All things rise then fall, then rise again.

All things have their arc.

You and me are no different – but this is no sadness.

This is no failing.

Rather this is the glory of the life we live.

We have spring and we have summer, then we have autumn and the darkness of winter.

But in this moment, we have that most precious unfolding

Called spring.

Below is one of my poem in which I tried to say much the same thing…

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Every subsequent spring

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All things die

You know this, but know it again

Not so as to live in deaths dark valley

Or to let fear fence you from the joy of living

Rather know it so death does not fool you

So it does not rule you

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Know it because, like last year’s leaves

(Or the spirit that stirs in oak trees)

Nothing is ever wasted, nothing rejected

Instead, all of us will come to participate

In every subsequent spring

From now into ever after

Amen