Mar 14

Spring 3

Spring Mud

When the snow finally kisses the dark sweet ground,
melting, seeping, folding into her body.
When the cold winds of winter have shivered at their own cold
and the sprouts start to poke up from beneath your socked toes.
When the birds are blown back to square number one
and the cold becomes wet.

Welcome mud.

Remember your critical alignment to warmth,
to reacquaint your face to the earth.
Mud is the best face paint,
slip-sliding over the turrets and towers of your nose and
the sturdy bridge of your mouth,
trying its best to avoid the deep mounds of your eyes.

Welcome mud.

Deep cherry-pitted laughter, the beginnings of a love
you never thought could exist, starry nights and breathable sunrises,
stifling happiness bugs and the trees showing off new coats of green.

Welcome the first day of spring.
About the Author: fire girl
" to choose to write is to reject silence" - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie