Hi folks! This is my first on-the-road blog entry for my journey, a “poetigraph” that I wrote as I rolled southward through the Shenandoah Valley, moving into the explosion of spring.
What is a “poetigraph”? It is an unrefined poem trapped in paragraph form.
I love spring with every fiber of my being, deliriously, even fiercely . . . a love that never dies. I am “spring-centric,” meaning that my whole year, including all it’s varied seasons, are but manifestations of one divine process, SPRING, the great birthing of nature that never ends.
Summer is spring’s time to wind down and show off the fruits of its labors. Autumn marks a new beginning, the first frosts coinciding with the formation of leaf buds on trees, intimations of explosive unfoldings still a half-year away. And winter is but the calm before the storm, the wild creative storm that I love so much.
Ask any Great-Horned Owl hooting on a frigid winter night: “Has not Spring yet begun?”