All that is right is in renewal,

and the world is infused

with the sudden nearness of the sun.

The smell of green,

cold on warm tendrils of wind,

adds its voice to a symphony of scent.

Damp earth and blossom harmonize.

This is not the time for wool

or closed windows

or clogged streets.

This is a day made for movement,

a day the wind has made turn in on itself

so that schedules seem destined for defeat

and duties exist only in the periphery

for nothing can contest the thirst for leisure

on this, the advent of spring.

04/18/2008

Author's Note: A complete overhaul of "Advent" from '04.

Posted on 04/18/2008
Copyright © 2025 Lacy D Phillips