As snowdrops polyp
To first pure light
I ponder on the feeling

Of sunshine in its newness,
Its pleasure upon my face
And its gentle touch of warmth

Upon the tentative ground.
All the sleeping things beneath,
bound to bulb and dormant root:

Life’s energies encapsulate.
Universes yet to be and
To-yet unfold. Every single one

Expectantly vibrating.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.