By Ken Tetsuzan Morgareidge
The gnarled and ancient silver maple has burst forth
with a thousand thousand leaves.
The lilac blossoms out in glowing royal purple
gems far too many to count.
Tulips emerge in colors from winter’s frozen crypt
and open to the risen sun.
The roses, roused at last from storm-caused dormancy,
send shoots among the dried out canes.
Pruning, trimming, mowing, planting, feeding, watering,
all the loving labors of spring.
Birds flit past in search of a branch on which to nest,
lay their eggs, transmit their dharma.
Just look!—every leaf, blossom, new blade of grass
is nothing but your own true being.