How annoying I must be with my long songs of awakening.
The cold dark slumber I endured,
Hidden under conifers in the cold chilled marshes of winter.
The slow thaw…
Me hopping, warbling and pestering you.
Your deep roots and calm,
Enduring my arias and chatter,
My cacophony of need.
I am small and can not climb to meet you.
Instead I hop, sing and flail in your shade,
Craving your audience.
I’ll be called tinkle toes or picklesticks.
I harken spring.
I’ll live here in your shade,
Wrestling spiders and beetles,
Making friends with the marsh,
Crooning to my new found friends.
The air cools.
You’ve shed your leaves.
It’s time again.
I am to be quiet.
I’ll stop looking up and silence my song.
I’m to be nestled,
Under your safeguard,
Thank you for my upward gaze of summer and for reasons to sing,
For your roots and a place to rest.
I’ll leave you in peace,
And wait for spring.
Christian Hunt is a long time massage therapist, acupuncturist, herbalist and tattoo removal specialist. She is passionate about surfing and traveling, especially blending both. Christian is a lover of words, water and wit.