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Flitting Sounds (new poem)
by Tim Kavi
flitting sounds, Spring has come
mountain streams awaken from slumber
robin comes calling, tiny swallows
flitting sounds like ruffling paper
on the branches.
overlooking like a protector
arms outstretched while She gathers her young
mother Gaia in the Winter soaked trees
waters the furrows in the ground where flowers
will spring forth in my Grandma's yard.
there is everywhere a straining, a waking up
new phases traded for old states
where once the withered and dying
now teems with new lives, full of promise
and heralding birdsongs.
I am made the Singer of Spring
the lyricist of eternal hopes
in the face of even fading suns
We are made whole in the love and tender mercies
of Spring's arrival.
