3.16.16 Once again

Here, the earth is once again preparing to quietly burst forth, into it's time of exuberance, of grand and great growth. 
          The winds of March slowly settle down, the rains shift in their intensity, and no matter the hail of yesterday, pelting down upon the houses and fields, still on will come the time of warm. 

          Of green and babies and buds becoming flowers becoming insect orgies. 
          Up will come our collards and kale and beans and cabbage, the carrots tossing up into the swift streams of breeze their delicate green lacework. Up will come my herb garden, the momentous Elecampane thrusting it's tall self into the skies with its elongate velvet leaf and striking yellow blossom.
          I was sitting today on the wet still-cold ground, by my garden, as the pup learned to tow himself around by the cement block, and then, after delivering to my neck a cold dirty kiss, amused himself by doing bunny searches in the raised bed.
          I was pulling dried grasses and old leaves out of the garden, inhaling the stark smell of the mint and the pungent of the rich earth. Overhead all the birds were flirting and courting and discussing neighbors and trying to settle disagreements and pick out nest sites.
     So I closed my eyes in the mid March sunshine, and leaned back on my dirty wet hands and could almost imagine the earth hurtling along its orbit ,and wondered if that meant its orbit was mine

     and found that in fact I wished for nothing more at all.