Seasons (Part 1): Primavera

by Kirk Spencer

Primavera00 Primavera
(στοργή)

Within the warm heart of earth

Bulbs revive and ferns unfurl

Where roots grow deep

And leaf to reach

Promises warm in their wooden beds

Which wake as little leaf-fingers unfolding hope

How quickly they grow

When daybreak swallows the morning star

When firstlight lights a lanterned world

When Stillness wears dew as diamond beads

Until stormbreezes dance with the branches above

Until rowdy birds rioting from tree to tree

Until the first salty tear falls

Pulling down the low storm ceiling

And then

For a moment

The air smells of earth

Silverflash violet bluefadinghaze

The downbeat of woodwinds tares the trees

And cracks the sky and sighs

And moans just under the eves

As on the roof and rafters the angry rain beats

Beats out the rage that pulses inside

Until the tempest finally passes by

And earth breathes out its cool wet breath

Resting exhausted against my skin

Mixing with the wetted dust within

Wrapped in the soft embrace of mists

The bright moon climbs finally above

The muddy clouds of adolescence

“Heart” is a permutation of “Earth” (only the “H” has changed its place, from first to last). The Ancients spoke of a woman’s body as the earth—for both brought forth life. Not so much “Mother Earth,” but the deep earthy mystery of motherhood (and yes it is still a mystery). The heart of a mother is the very image of love and selfless compassion. It is where a child’s roots can grow deep and little fingers reach for a promising future. It is a safe world, full of beautiful potential. Then noontide comes and something happens. Everything is thrown into uproar. The frenzy of preteens chasing each other, like birds, from house to house—not knowing what to do if one ever caught the other. Then the raging tempest of the teen years that comes with a flash and everything seems like it is

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