bird songs

a poem.

Taken at Como Regional Park. One of the 20 cherry trees gifted from Japan.

I don’t really like spring. Now before you go judging me, you have to understand. I live in Minnesota. Spring usually means grey skies, dull-colored grass, and too much rain. The sun peaks out now and then, but blooms quickly come and go. Minnesotans love summer. Spring, rather than a delightful transition with new colors and sweet scents, is a pit stop to our favorite time of year.

But, this year, I loved spring.

I can’t quite describe why. Has it been like this all along? Have I just missed the beauty of it? After all, May is a packed season. It’s full of preparation for summer vacay and new chores for our outdoor landscapes. It’s full of more outings, picnics, and recreation. The skies have been a pure, cloudless blue. Blooms seem ever so fragrant, and trees are vibrant neon green, coming back to life after the chill.

I used to live in California, and while I loved the constant sun and vitamin D year-round, I began to miss the seasons and how they centered me. Living in Minnesota, I have learned to adore the joys of scanning the fall colors, waiting for the peak. I’ve been hunting for sakura cherry blossoms, some have passed and some are in bloom. Snowfall is magical, especially when it decides to show up on Christmas day. Seasons remind us to pause and enjoy the fleeting moments. Indeed, all of life’s moments are.

Seasons ground us.

That is, if we step outside.

I recently heard a statistic that we spend an average of 90% indoors.

How much have I missed by my overindulgence in the indoors? Seasons don’t work on our schedule. They also seem to go even faster when we are busy. I have been busy this season, feeling the tension as I realize all I am missing beyond my window. But as I have slowed, I have discovered something I didn’t hear before.

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bird songs

a rush

of wind

catching up to my feet

9:50 AM

a ten-minute drive

hair in a banana clip

not enough time

to listen to bird songs

the pure blue

up high

not a cloud to watch

go by

my eyes spending

too much time

looking down

at my feet

they match

the rhythm of my

heartbeat

forgetting the necessity

of a deep breath

in and out

rain and sunshine

my only sign

of the season changed

wet boots

and raindrops on my hair

now dried

i catch tweets and chirps

with the sunroof open

but not enough time

to listen to bird songs

sakura season

wafting past my nose

but i’m too late

by the time i turn

petals whisked away

when will i take a break?

to capture

a mental photo

time to precious

to let go

holding the blossoms

in my fingertips

before the puffs

make it drift

but no longer a chase

the rush

of wind

now guiding

my pace

i pause

to listen

and suddenly

melodies

spring up

from what was once

only snippets

now songs.

For the One,