Turn off the clock radio and hear the dawn chorus. This is the music of Spring. Birds call to the sun before it rises.
I dig in the ground and forget the world of mankind. Worms unearthed remind me of how miraculous is life, that to the lowliest we owe our lives.
Little green sprouts seem so fragile, yet reach so valiantly to the sun.
At last Spring has reached my home and I am swept back to the eternal rhythms.
With warmth and water, birds and bugs awake and sing for life renewed.
This is the music never ended, only muted in winter’s sleep.