Listen, can you hear it? Spring’s sweet cantata.
The strains of grass pushing through the snow.
The song of buds swelling on the vine.
The tender timpani of a baby robin’s heart.
Spring.
Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider, Northern Exposure.
Spring
All posts tagged Spring
“Don’t be ashamed to weep; ’tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.” ― Brian Jacques
You find a flower half-buried in leaves,
And in your eye its very fate resides.
Loving beauty, you caress the bloom;
Soon enough, you’ll sweep petals from the floor.
Terrible to love the lovely so,
To count your own years, to say “I’m old,”
To see a flower half-buried in leaves
And come face to face with what you are.
– Hanshan
As through the poplar’s gusty spire
The March wind sweeps and sings,
I sit beside the hollow fire,
And dream familiar things;
Old memories wake, faint echoes make
A murmur of dead Springs…
“Long Ago,” in Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art
Conducted by William and Robert Chambers, 1868
Old Groundhog* stretched in his leafy bed.
He turned over slowly and then he said,
“I wonder if spring is on the way,
I’ll go and check the weather today…”
~Author Unknown, “Groundhog Day”
* Prairie dog photos
“In springtime, love is carried on the breeze.
Watch out for flying passion or kisses whizzing by your head.”
– Emma Racine deFleur
“This outward spring and garden are a reflection of the inward garden.” – Rumi
“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask?
A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.” ― Victor Hugo
“Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.”
Robert Frost
Maverick Mist 