Black Spring

The Chocolate Cosmos stretches, slow and sure,
like a secret the wind can not keep.
The earth croons, shares her stories
in the language of blossoms,
and the moon, strong and steady,
opens the trees wide,
their dreams falling soft like petals.

In the quiet,
the flowers breathing,
a slow exhale of life returning,
as if the sky, drunk on blue,
leaned down to kiss the ground awake.
The bold grass rises,
reaches out to graze my hands,
upon green streams full of wanting,
and the air, thick now,
with the rhythm of wings.

How could I not yearn for this wildness?
The reckless sway of leaves,
the rivers swollen with secret silver,
and you—children of the sun
barefoot in the field,
your laughter falling like sweet rain.
What could be gentler than this joy
that moves through every root, every stone?

The Alpha, not just a season—
but a prayer rising up from the earth,
a song written in the language of beginning again,
and me, small as a seed,
I bloom here, steady beneath your gaze.

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