Not Everything Is Evergreen

I’m on my way back home again.

Last dog-eared ticket in my pocket –

time for it to finally unfurl.

I’m on my way back home again.

.

Winter months and burning cold

forced me into hibernation.

Enervation found the cracks

I’d tried hard to hide.

.

But I’m on my way back home again.

Lily-of-the-valley drips crisp dew pearls –

sparkling tears of spring.

Last dog-eared ticket in my pocket –

time for it to finally unfurl.

.

By the creek, in oak tree old, a starling sings.

She sings for her, she sings for me.

On my lips, fresh-fallen morning mist clings.

In May, it’s easy to forget not everything is evergreen.

.

Feathers rustling, wings stretched out in the wind,

she’s on her way back home again.

.

Facing sunrise,

tears rolling down,

eyes squint,

light shimmers through the lids.

Sunbeams spill through the forest crown,

next breath comes easily.

.

Hair down, arms stretched out in the wind,

I’m on my way back home again.

.

It’s time to go back home again.