Spring sunrise

sunrise with trees

Light the fire
warm the earth
pull grasses out of cold dirt
raise buds from bare branches
spark birdsong in dark trees.

Light the fire
wake young blood to race
through veins and streets and days,
rising to action, revolution, love, lust,

Light the fire
warm old bones to feel
strong again and free,
to stand, to walk, to march, to
go on forever.

Minute by minute
fire rises beneath the horizon
turning dark sky pale
turning pale sky blue
turning darkness to day
winter to spring
despair to hope.

[Note to readers: April is National Poetry Month. I’ll be trying to write a lot of poetry, posting a lot, good or bad or indifferent.]


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