by Cathy Kirchgessner
I stand barefoot in the rain
licking chocolate cake batter
from a rubber spatula
I didn't take time to set down.
I ran from the kitchen
fast and far into the rain,
from dryness and thirst
to wet, to here!
I am here!
With spiders and cherries
and thunder and sparrows.
I flip flop on flooded grass,
slide slick as grease
in squirmy, wormy soup.
I sing to this world,
pet her, let her know
there is happy.
I will bake her a cake,
whip it at her rocks,
throw it to her sky,
spread it gently
on her velvet, violet petals.
by May Sarton
Always it happens when we are not there—
The tree leaps up alive into the air,
Small open parasols of Chinese green
Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always manages to get there first.
Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stirring in the empty air,
Look up one day through a dissolving screen
To find no star, but this multiplied green,
Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.
Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!