Praising Spring
The day is taken by each thing and grows complete.
I go out and come in and go out again,
confused by a beauty that knows nothing of delay,
rushing like fire. All things move faster
than time and make a stillness thereby. My mind
leans back and smiles, having nothing to say.
Even at night I go out with a light and look
at the growing. I kneel and look at one thing
at a time. A white spider on a peony bud.
I have nothing to give, and make a poor servant,
but I can praise the spring. Praise this wildness
that does not heed the hour. The doe that does not
stop at dark but continues to grow all night long.
The beauty in every degree of flourishing. Violets
lift to the rain and the brook gets louder than ever.
The old German farmer is asleep and the flowers go on
opening. There are stars. Mint grows high. Leaves
bend in the sunlight as the rain continues to fall.
Notes
While yesterday's look at "Grinding the Lens" showed us the rigorous, patient labor required to clear away the heavy distortions of the ego, "Praising Spring" captures the exact moment that hard-won transparency meets the world. It serves as a beautiful continuation of July's lightness, shifting from the quiet discipline of clearing our internal sight to the pure, unburdened joy of witnessing a stark reality bloom without our interference. By stepping into a landscape freed from past ghosts, Gregg reminds us that the ultimate reward of a polished, empty mind is the capacity to let the present hour stream through in all its fragile, unfiltered clarity. #poetry #summer #spring #nature #beauty