The Birth Of Spring


Written by Anna Grace Clark


This is the birth of Spring. 

The clouds convoluted, 

convulsing in contractions, 

the grey giving way 

in the spur of action. 


Giving birth 

is no easy feat. 

And the skies part with a 

groan of a mother 

in the in between. 


“But it’s passing, I promise. 

Just breathe.” 

And the skies heave, 

clutching the hands of the heavens 

as the end begins. 


And the Earth cracks open, 

crowning the carnations with 

yellow blood. 

And the cord is cut, 

the final resolution. 


The flower pushed its head out of the ground, 

and the Earth knew 

that with that final push 

what is done cannot be undone, 

and there was peace. 


The skies, slowly peaking 

were rosy and relieved, 

finding worth in the resolved, 

The birth of Spring 

bringing recovery.