Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Springtime for Umstead and The Triangle

Walking trail in morning light,
Spring lost itself in leaves.
Trees woke up
from winter sleep,
the latest fashions
in buds and blooms
of yellow poplar,
white mountain laurel,
pink rhotodendron hung on cliffs,
and canopies
high above
and far beyond,
obscuring view
for to see feet and
forest fabric.
Noises of busy birds,
young squirrels prancing
in Fall's remnants,
longer days,
and warmer weather,
sweat long forgotten
reluctantly rediscovered.
A perfect background for focusing
not on what is out there
but in here,
pushing one into itself
in cleansing colors
and smells.
A house more human
than humans inhabit,
the season brings life
to souls separated by cold
and frozen through by
the sleet of suburbia,
the greed and garbage
of ubiquitous urban usperpation.
Friends reconnect
among red maple wallpaper,
sweetgum ceilings,
and carpets of pine.
A single flower
from a creekside Laurel,
white serrated cups
streaked and speckled purple
in clusters upon bunches,
remind us of hidden potential,
the cycles of time,
the promises of seasons,
and that life comes again.

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