Easter Sunday

Soil relenting, spring’s first push,
burgeoning life surrounds this stand;
fitful witness to unfolding green,
each changing moment through my hand.

Hushed, the stance about me,
glorious roar the woods return;
blackbird, jay, and chickadee chorus,
flit in sweeps of dive and turn.

Budding green in willow’s locks
thankfully stretch to forest floor;
squirrels prattle and build such nests
of hand hewn boughs and fancy doors.

I, caught in granite repose,
dare neither a nerve nor twitch of eye;
allowed to simply be within,
enwrapped in spring from earth to sky!