We Are A Meadow Poem by edward lilley

Each year, somewhere in the second week of February
I awaken cold
Under the weight of snow
Or blankets
And wonder if I still have written in me
The way up
Out of the dark
Through the ice.
Then I remember daffodils, warm arms
Duets and friends

And this gray morning,
I draw your sweet spirits close to me
To breathe you in.
Like herbs prescribed for strength
Or celebration.
The gorgeous mix of you.
Spiked, Barbed
Fragile, Wispy
This wild bouquet I gathered all along my way.
Branches, hands and blossoms.

One of you, I hunted down and captured.
You came and sat in my window.
Another I dreamed and conjured.
You simply walked with me and prayed.
One met my eyes when no one else would.
You fed me.
She taught me.
He soothed me.
You shocked me, moved me, rocked me.
Sumac, friends, and daisies
Jutting out in the path just in time.
Popping up in the cracks of sidewalks.
Imported from jungles.
Wrestling me down in coke towns,
Luring me into birch woods and creekbeds.
I have needed you
Miraculous congregation.
I can hardly get my arms around the girth of you,
The wealth of you!
I am giddy from knowing you are here with me.

Please no flowers when I die!
Today I am alive! You are here with me.
My arms overflowing with the riches of my days.
I am here!
Awake, to feel you pressed against me.
Swallow the scent of you.
Please, no flowers when I die!
Branches, lilies, weeds, and friends.
I hold the chorus of you close.
And know
And receive
And remember
We are a meadow in full bloom
With birdsong!