There’s something about the feel
of damp earth between my fingers—
the smell of newly turned soil,
rich… dark…awaiting first touch.
There’s joy in that first sighting
anxiously returning to their hiding places—
that speaks to the continuity of life
after the long and barren winter.
There’s an escape that calls on the wind
blowing on this overcast day
perfumed with the promise of rain.
I continue my annual ritual—
finding peace in the solitude;
contentment in the silence—
lost inside season’s change.
© Ginny Brannan 2014