For Jeanne
In the quiet sun spackled canopy of the forestGrow sage colored lichens
With their lacy edges ruffling slightly in the wind
Glistening with morning dew
They listen as the forest begins breathing new life once again.
The gnarled trees are flexing
Their sinewy roots and quaking limbs
As the buds patiently await
Their cue to begin the opening act
Of the ancient rites and rituals called Spring.
Fresh rotting leaves and discarded bark
Rich decay of spongey warm loam
Disregarded as useless and unlovely
Yet providing the necessary nutirents
From seasons passed
For the seeds of dried and crackling pods
As they ferret into the moist earth with quiet determination
To find shelter in a summer home.
-Lucinda Claire
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