Late Spring as Usual by Marie Ponsot, poet
Late Spring as Usual
The vine is moving.
the motion too slow to be visible
but it is racing, racing,
feeling for a way
across the wall of the fence it’s scrawling on,
inches added every day.
Forwarding, sunwarding, it claims its place.
Green states its claim.
It writes the lesson of the day: longing,
longing coming true while arcing
out and up according to the instruction of desire.
Sun-hungry its tip has tilted toward sun-space.
Already it is speeding leaf-notes out of its root
all along the sprigless budless thread
still scribbling the deed of its location.
in two weks or one or four
by Marie Ponsot, poet
3 Responses to Late Spring as Usual by Marie Ponsot, poet
May 7th, 2015
Identification with ego is the undoing of remembering your true being, Self. Your ego falsely believes the myth of separation and leaves you feeling small, isolated, unsupported, and vulnerable. Every fear, every pain, and every suffering registers in ego. Imagine …
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