If seasons were a four act play
early spring would be the star of the second act:
the shifty character
that slips in and out of scenes,
sometimes bright and lively
stealing the show,
other times lurking almost menacingly
in the background.
That’s because spring is a rather uncertain thing,
calling forth images of lions and lambs.
Enticing us to change time for it–
turning our clocks forward simply to catch it’s light.
We know better than to rely on calendars.
Spring plays with seasons like a trickster
never settling on the same month from year to year.
And while spring teases all of our senses
what we can trust is sound.
No matter if your eyes see grey sky
and brown grass,
or if you are bundled again with hats and gloves
after a burst of warm spring air.
Even if the wind smells more like fall.
You can trust your ears.
The birds turn a spotlight on spring
even as it lurks back stage.
Year-round feathered residents that star in each act
are our first true signal of the nearness of spring.
Cardinals, chickadees, and nuthatches
sense lengthening days and change their tune
from hushed winter melodies to flamboyant love songs.
Red wing blackbirds are early arrivals
here today amid snowflakes
singing of territory and looking for love.
It’s not bad advice no matter the setting.
To trust our ears.
To listen, knowing what we see and feel
may not be the whole story.
To fine tune how we listen…
to the pulse of this land we call home
or to one another.
Listening for the tune, the change in pitch,
the desire for connection that’s embedded
in the words we share.
Early spring is, indeed, a fine actor,
keeping us enthralled, always a little off balance.
And in toying with our senses,
spring reminds us, again, of the value in listening,
despite what we might see,
for the essence and the authenticity
in our connections.