Celebration Poem by Susan Gabriel

Early morning the woodland garden is
a skeleton shrouded in pewter hoarfrost
waiting for dawnlight to make it glimmer

Apple mint and lemon balm wait patiently
under matted vine blankets and do not fret
as I do: ‘what will return in this year of
February thaw and April snow? '

Will iris prisms pleasure eyes again?
will lambs ear and silver mound return to be caressed,
will thyme swaddle the stepping-stones
gifting its essence as it is crushed underfoot

And what of summer work songs?
of hushed matins as worms till dirt,
psalms of mid-day bees ravishing lavender,
soft vespers of evening butterflies as seeds swell

Yet our desires do not figure into Soil's secret contracts.
Her counsel is wind, birds, heat, water and the Unseen,
Whose wisdom decides what dies to be loam to the living.

Our part in this?
Surrender to Her mysteries, and when it comes,
celebrate rebirth.