The Humble Rock Dove

It hurts to be crushed like this, but I am that turtle, i am that door, i am the zoo, and the owl for sure. And i see myself in a silver moon, i show the world that moon. I show and blow clouds all around to hide me, too. Spring began in the start of April, no really, it did. Because as the day starts when my mind puts on a few thoughts, and things start moving, when i see the sun arrive and pull daffodil flowers out of the ground, and little speckles of maybe red or purple (wild) flowers… THAT is spring beginning, to me. It’s in realising and fearing the concept of fertility, as hostile and violent, and ever vital and present,as within,and around. This is Spring. Isn’t there two versions of seasons, or something ? One on months, one on some scientific solar chart? I cling to the first of the three: the one resonant with the human soul. If you believe in all that. I kneel to the golden coils of heaven and say, i do. (I believe that).