Something Like Spring
In the forest, it begins.
Sap, running deep in in the veins,
a secret life,
a promise, a hidden spring.
Not seen,
it is there nonetheless,
inevitable, invisible,
alive, despite the appearance of death,
same as you,
where nothing has changed, and yet inside
there is something like Spring
waiting for it’s unveiling.
About this poem
Life has its cycles. We know this. And yet sometimes we forget, lost in appearances.
Tom
