POEM: Spring Has Sprung

Winter is passed
And still
What is dung is dung
Yet in concert with
Sow becoming
A sublime movement
From the bowels of
And her thirst borne sun
Spring has sprung
From her fertile eyes
Perfectly teeming
With body and

This is a poem for the first day of Spring.  This poem celebrates both the cyclic revitalization of through the seasons and the inevitable arisings of from the What is dung is dung of politics.  I frequently harken back to the theme of springing eternal.  If you are discouraged about the apparent lack of in the world, just wait, happens.  Even better yet, just wade, into such a fertile — even overripe — for change.  Both and the collective souls of beckon your participation.  What is that I see breaking through the once cold, hard dirt…

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