Spring time intentions

When the plump fractals of stems braid into one another.
When they then lose their moisture, heaving, crisp. The badly timed season.
Only to once again rehydrate and renew- come time.
Then we can watch.
Wait.
Multitudes of dewdrops absorbed.
None shaken off.
Observe the growth with patience.
Tenderly.
Ribs vibrating in peace.
Mouth upturned and eyes closed.
Observe from afar
Then up close, if prudent

Seasons shift
But they do not really change
Do they.

Today I forgive myself for not being enough.
And the winter forgives itself for not being the spring.

Two.