with your sumptuous variegated leaf patterns,
arising in big colonies early, so early in spring
amid dry leaves and old twigs,
Triple Goddess, you sprout from the dry earth
innocently, as if it were every day
ancient knowledge comes forth into our sight.
You lie barely visible at our feet,
one of the old ones, short and well-adapted
to the forest floor, a gnome
with a new red cap.
But no pretty pink here, nor lacy white.
You are of the blood of the Earth Mother herself,
and even Her rich warm blood has beauty,
and she will not hide this, our Mother.
She bleeds, and Her blood is beautiful.
Wake Robin, wake us to know
where e’er we walk, She feels and knows.
We kiss the Earth, but She bruises, too,
in bloodroot, in trillium, in fracking, in clearcut, in war.
Wake, Robin, don’t be a fool!
Here is Life’s own rich display, ineffable,
the upward thrust, the very orgasm of Spring.
She is here today, for you, for us,
crowding upward for us here,
but once only.
Flat Creek, North Carolina