By Anna
The Peace You Seek is Over Yonder Hill
Moss is the first to sigh, a verdant green to catch the eye. Birds trill; dead grass rustles - and then all at once it bustles: with the quiet hum of bees, with the first small leaves on the trees.
Dead. Emaciated. For deer, Spring is long awaited. Spread seeds or put out feed, but rain is all She needs for speed in sprouting from the ground sustenance adequate, abound.
Spring’s flower pilot: Dandelion and violet. Garlic mustard grows tall, then there’s hardly ivies at all. When burdock leaves widen, that's when mayapples ride in.
Longing to join the fray? Singing keeps coyotes at bay. “Leave no trace” is some oath. Clear trash – before the undergrowth – Use dead wood by the path lest erosion be the aftermath.
When feeling abrasive, pull out those who are most invasive. Be not a bystander, When taking time to meander. “A steward!” Calls the land And who can answer that demand?
The best family is -wort as their root’s uses can assert. After Spring equinox, Honeysuckles, hawthorns, and phlox, if you happen to see, try making them in to a tea.
Thistle in the prairie often grows by some dewberry. Parsnip, carrots, hemlock: Deadly lookalikes make most balk. White snakeroot kills cows, so be careful which groves they browse.
Heat forms foliage thinned, but shade blocks the sun and the wind. Like a seed, unravel To grow, to laugh, and to travel. Hydrate and sleep enough; Only in youth are you so tough.
Shrill songs of the birds a longing to live, without words, has one stumbling on and on, as quickly as a fawn, knowing the night will come and to Autumn all will succumb.