A Mother's Spring

My kitchen windowsill radiates
with the first evidence of spring--
short-stemmed tufts of dandelions
my resident explorer brings.
Tell-tale footprints across the floor,
fingerprints 'round the sink
left by an adventurer
who stopped to get a drink.
Sticks and burrs and pine cones
stashed like jewels in a box,
a treasure bag of dried grass,
buds, blooms, and rocks--
I find them in the dirty clothes,
under the bed, or in a drawer,
forgotten spoils of yesterday's
skirmish of Discovery War.
Time spent peering from a tree
or sprinting across the lawn,
chasing the dog, escaping the dog
(friendships are not easily won).
I thank God for the traces of springtime
scattered throughout our home.
I thank God for the world to conquer,
the freedom in which to roam.
I thank God for bits of nature captured--
the dirt, the bugs, the splinters.
I thank God for discovery of new life
as spring emerges from winter.

"For behold the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land." -Song of Solomon 2:11 & 12a

From March 13, 1990