this spring

this Spring

what surprises me

is how much death there is

daffodils once dancing

now rot in my compost

Remembering the winter

i have not yet removed the heavy blankets

from the time when i

could not

go

outside

It was not

that the doors were locked.

but I, unsteady - walking:

shaky my Faith was - lost

I promptly shut doors

when they gently opened

on even those occasionally warm january days

Preferring the safety of a

bloody darkness

This spring time

I am surprised to discover

that the words I thought I once knew

I don't know

at all.

Beliefs (peace is good)

are now as mysterious

as that young lady's face in the mirror -

i don't really know (H)er

at all

Spring, now

I find

surprising:

I am being courted.

Yes, me!

My very own Prince

Sending first daffodils then tulips and now bluebells

And even as today's bluebells die

tomorrow, I hear, will be roses.

Such abundance, my Prince

Delights in giving me

Peace

And I find, not really to my surprise

that I don't know Him

at all,

though He has (really) been

quite busy, courting me

for quite

a long time before

this spring