Spring Comes Anyways
The news from around the world these days—of wars and deliberate cruelty, starving whales and collapsing ecosystems, rearmament and unravelling international norms—is more than any individual can absorb or respond to. Oh, I forgot to add AI and water-quaffing data centers. See what I mean? Ever get the feeling the whole thing is spinning out of control?
And yet…
…spring comes anyways. There is still this beguiling ritual between sun and earth, flowers and birds and a trillion living things unseen. Sure, it’s challenged—by land destruction, pesticides, a shifting climate—but the heart of the matter is still there. And can still be felt, in the belting birds, the exploding buds, the scented air and tender greens. Something truly magnificent persists and insists on continuing. That energy, that will, that confidence is also ours.
It’s good to remind oneself of the fact once in a while, to remember what carries us, and could lead us back to sanity if we would let it.
It's always like this in April.
Water notes fly from the throats of birds
like spray off a waterfall
sailing, spiraling, chittering
but never colliding. Each note must be heard
and each bird knows when.
The air is a floating musical staff
without lines, and the notes have wings
and wills and hungers. Overhead
a streaming white arrow of Trumpeter swans
rushes overhead, excitedly honking.
Something is coming. Something big and golden
a great warmth, the rumors of the wind
confirmed.
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Everyone always mentions bird song as one of those things that gives the greatest hope. But we know without healthy ecosystems, birds are disappearing fast too. We can't let that happen.
Thank you! I experience this every day when being in my garden, both the news part and the wings and wills and hungers of the notes of the birds. Something is coming indeed, just listen and watch. And act and help preserve it.