Ode to Nordic Spring

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Each bulb has its moment,

Its white, yellow, purple time to bloom,

Fade, drop.

Make room for another solo.

Slow snow-melt sap flow.

For each week the swarm grows, size shows,

Sideshows from tree-buds,

Softly grey-fuzzed,

Swelling, smelling sweet and green sap

Rising sunwards,

Damp, silver days glow,

High blue skies call blackbirds

Chirp and cry.

Silver stains emerald,

Sprouts, shoots, gentle opening leaves,

Serrated, spotted, fuzzy, glossy green.  

Pinpointed white, yellow, purple,

Time to scurry and squeak.

Pine cones crack, feather-light seeds peep,

Tumble, catch the breeze.

Time to bloom on crowded forest floors,

Roots extend, cold retreats.

Gardens, parks, forests call back to warmth,

To life,

Pull back on the sun,

Hold it,

Not letting it go down.

Nyborg 2017

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