Winter is passed
And still
What is dung is dung
Yet in concert with nature
Sow becoming
A sublime movement
From the bowels of Mother Earth
And her thirst borne sun
Spring has sprung
From her fertile eyes
Perfectly teeming
With body and soul
This is a poem for the first day of Spring. This poem celebrates both the cyclic revitalization of nature through the seasons and the inevitable arisings of social movements from the What is dung is dung of politics. I frequently harken back to the theme of hope springing eternal. If you are discouraged about the apparent lack of change in the world, just wait, change happens. Even better yet, just wade, into such a fertile — even overripe — environment for change. Both Mother Earth and the collective souls of humanity beckon your participation. What is that I see breaking through the once cold, hard dirt…
