Spring speaks.
First came the shy, perfect stutterings of narcissus and hyacinth. Forsythia followed with an unabashed soliloquy. And then entered the beautiful but immature boldness of the Bradford pear, bloomed and greened, turning verse awkwardly.
But now, now enter the sovereigns of song: redbud and dogwood.
Redbuds sing praise with purple pastorals, filling valleys with their wild Lenten hues, pulling hearts toward Pascha. Dogwoods float along hillsides like clouds. They are sweet processions of speech, gladdening crucifers. Theirs is a romantic conceit, whispered in a lover's ear. Their limbs are twisted under the weight of proclamation, bent and sprained with Teresa's beauty. Tender petals, perfect and pierced, unfold from crooked hard wood.
On creation's lips is Christ.
The earth erupts; bright choruses of tulips sing hallelujahs, sweet antiphons.
3 comments:
Just beautiful, Scott! Thought you would enjoy this story about Braden: The Bradford Pear Trees are abundant in our yard. As Spring begins they are COVERED with white blossoms. However, after a couple of weeks, the blossoms begin to fall. When the wind blows, the blossoms can fall and fall...and fall. Our driveway was literally covered with white blossoms yesterday. Braden looked outside while the wind was blowing and said excitedly, "Look, Mom! It's snowing!"
That's a great story, Robin. I bet Braden is talking up a storm nowadays, huh?
Bradford pears are beautiful, but they sure stink.
Such a gorgeous reflection. :)
It is spring in New Mexico, too, what with an unexpected inch of snow yesterday, 60 degrees today. Spring doesn't want us to rest, to be safe. She asks us to trust that she knows her earth business.
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