The Earth Is Done Waiting

Yesterday the tree outside my window
was bare, its branches in winter gray.
This morning, it shows green buds
infant leaves stretching their tiny fingers.
Those tufts with the strong sun on them
whisper an insistence against death. 

This afternoon in Central Park 
there is the pwank of an aluminum bat
the first ball of the season arcs away
from the long dormant field. 
The umpire lifts his wire mask to look up.
From the outfield, “hey, hey, hey, I got it.” 

It’s spring and the earth is done waiting, 
It’s ready to wake up and push back 
urge the growth of resistance, that is, 
persist against the cult of demise. 
Let all creation sing 
		a demand to begin again. 

Like this poem, give it a heart. Like the poet, make a donation.

Love the earth. Resist the culture of demise.