The earth is warm to day; I can feel it in my bones

As I have  the front door open of our cottage and let the soft spring like air 

Breeze through along the long leaf heart  pine walls and floor

 to sweep out the cobwebs of winter.

 

My old Airedale, who is blind,

Pricks  her nose up to the breeze from our porch

And drinks it in like it was an elixir.

We head for the pond together, and amble down the  

Grass laden path like peas and ham

Like a guide stick she taps her head off my leg step

And heads off like a brail master

Letting the smells and sounds of her old haunt

Guide her through the bee- loud glade.  

 

The sun dazzles its brilliance off the water and blinds us,

Inviting  us into its distant marshy environs like some radiant and holy crystal

 Only nature spirits see

 A chorus of  birds serenade the  air, fish feed the surface ;

I disturb a dragon fly as we free the canoe from its winter sleep  

 And glide its sleek silver body across the rippled water  with my age  old pup-riding helm;

We  take out  off across the open  water, surprise a flock  of ducks ,then portage

 the  inlet  searching its  grassy  delta  for signs of spring.

  

For  size  our  pond is  not that big, about 3 acres in all, but it allows you to

navigate bass beds made of reed and stick and to get up close the footprints

of our animal friends whose nocturnal haunts appear to be many . .

 

There are the deer of course, big and small and there are a variety of beaver

 Otter, Possum and Raccoon tracks to all  make sense of.

Everyone  seems  to make it to the waters edge

 Then veer off into a maze of tiny crossroads that trample the grass and meander into the pine and sycamore forest.to our back and sides   ..

 

We are in the month of  Pieces now  with a full sun Aries fastly approaching    

This week a  quarter moon passes the  night in the shape of an upturned  horn and by its weak and feeble light ,we can imagine  the many animals that come and go to this secluded spot  

We can see what they eat has changed over  from  

Winter rye grass  to one of  new green shoots of horsetail,

 Bamboo, berries and the aquatic salads of water lily and iris.

 

Oh ...The yard needs raking I know, and the beds need to be cleaned out

This I haven't forgotten.... but. I've got other plans. 

Big plans, Great plans, Plans that baffle the ordinary mind,

 Plans that let go for just one day the busyness of life's cycle

of cell phone and schedule  

Plans that compliment  the imagination and give comfort to the soul

Plans that let the mind wonder and see the universe as it really is

 

As the porch radio plays some Mozart for  the Viola 

 I dig the warm black wet earth of my compost pile

And watch the worms curl and wiggle in the sun of my spade

. One by one I introduce them to an old soup can in my wicker creel,

Then close the hatch along with a sandwich and a thermos of Cha (green tea)

And step back into the daffodil strewn path and  backtrack to  the  pond ;

 

Stretching out my winter legs with a pole over my shoulder

and some verse crumpled in a beat up paperback stuffed in my back pocket .

 My quest is simple; a rhrendevous with my favorite tree,

 contemplate the still water,

cast a line ,

and let the March sun warm my face  

Then if the Gods of Spring smile,

 let em bite     Py