The Blossoming of the North
First light: a new beginning,
at the crack of dawn
feel the air against the skin
stop to listen to the dawn chorus.
Thrillingly, it is still summer.
Last year, madness brushed with death.
.Now, I'm thinking:
"The world is full of magic things,
Patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper."
My senses are sharp,
like a razor I cut through the trash
of man's deceit - breathe a sigh of pure relief -
the blossoming of the north
astounds me: such wonder in the world.
my dog and I are old now but we rub along,
hone our senses
see into the life of things