The Eagle

As the majestic feathered beast swoops down
surveying the death of years gone by
Simple, tiny leaves of green bloom
suggesting the hope of renewal.
The hope of once again starting anew.
A rebirth.
Of hope.
A knowledge that what was once laid to rest has not been dead, at all.
Just asleep.
Knowing, all along, that life can once again begin.
A swooping, knowing soul. Surveying the loss. Tallying the tolls this year has taken on us.
And forgiving.
Forgiving the sins we have made.
And understanding our choices.
With each winter our senses falter.
Cold sets in, and we become numb.
Numb to the feelings that inevitably reawaken with Spring.
And the crocus blooms.. A pure, simple, beautiful face to our renewal. Life has begun again.