Beneath the winter debris,
spring is stirring.
I found it in the garden this morning.
In the chilly air, it lay concealed
beneath crumbling russet leaves.
Garden phlox, the boldest,
has ventured an inch above the ground
threading through bleached skeletal stalks
of last year’s abundant growth.
My patient, questing eye detects
the cautious crimson tips of the peony
pressing their way through the earth,
and tender green leaves curled and unfolding,
baubled with sparkling drops from a recent dousing.
Lily of the Valley
Sedum
Cranesbill Geranium
Lady’s Mantle
Columbine
Coral Bells
Jacob’s Ladder
Bleeding Heart
I revel in their promise and their presence
and their names trip off my tongue
like a pagan chant or an ancient blessing.
Warming my heart.
A call to the gods of nature.
Spring is stirring.
Nix the comfort zone 
Bleached skeletal stalks — cautious crimson tips —- love their sounds.
And instead of lots of rain, you say “drops from a recent dousing.”
And I say, “Ahhh,” as I reread the lines just to listen to your words.
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Thanks, Sue!
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This is a beautiful poem that captures my spring-time garden too. I am constantly amazed with how the garden is changing from just one day to the next.
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I can’t decide which is more beautiful – your words or your pictures! Spring has sprung in my yard, too. Unfortunately, the names of the flowers don’t roll of my tongue… I just sit and stare, bewildered, and bless the heart of the woman who we bought this house from last Spring!
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The names are just a bonus! 🙂 It’s taken years and years to learn them and I’m still often bewildered. But my heart gives a thrill each time I recognize a plant and know it’s name. I, too, give thanks to those who have lived and planted here before me. I try to tend their legacy.
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