After the vitriol of winters Grey
After the sleepy, icy fray
There comes a swirling burst of energy
Flowers, tree song, warm winds heave
Bleeding hues taking over
Visions for a seasons lover
Colors in every shade,
On their canvas of grass blades
The dawn of life comes back around
While greenery bursts from the ground
Trees swelling with budding leaves
Twisting vines, sunshine thieves
Return of birds by the thousands
Cacophony of voices abounds and
The air is filled, prey distracted
After longterm snow has retracted
Predators paradise
The songbird sings and hunter dines
Babies of hundreds of species
Tumbling fumbling, nursing, teething
They will learn to hunt and fly
By autumn to Mother they'll say goodbye
Noise and movement fills the space
Where winters silence took its grace
The other side, the reflection
Years would take a full inspection
Of paddling grebes, diving ducks
Sleepy bears, yearling bucks
Southern migrants from the tropics
On sunny days will raise their young chick's
Legs dashing, tails splashing
Insects chewing, flowers blooming
Voices howling in the night
Morning dew in the light
Scamper, scurry, slither, preen
So much life returns with green
Chaos.
Madness.
Utter turmoil.
This seeming disorder
Is sweet relief from torpor
The crazed dash, this hurried dream
Is what we humans like to call Spring
About the Creator
Amanda Pays
I am a horseback nomad in the Western US. I love writing poetry, prose and missives on my experiences living in the wilderness, aiming to provide a unique perspective on the natural world and advocating for all wild creatures and spaces.
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Feral
Do not seek me amongst Sterile walls and surfaces Where everyone is neatly dressed Don't imagine me with Soft, clean skin Clean fingernails A whiff of laundry detergent In a building with Exit signs Florescent lights Recycled air from a vent Hard echoing floors... . Think of me when you see A deer in pause At the sight of cars Or smell rabbitbrush After a hard rain . Meanwhile Somewhere, far away, inseparable from spirit and place My ribcage clatters With the sound of birds and insects Growing unruly with leafy tendrils The soles of my feet painted in dirt Feathers and sprigs of mint in my hair My heart chattering away About rain soaked buckskins, And calluses on my palms And the moon beaming down on my face at night My stomach grasps for the nourishment of roots and berries and wildflower meals My life is a commingling of pine needles in my dufflebag, forever finding seeds in pockets and beetles scuttling across my pillow. Each day filled with celebration, where learning the language of a lively, churning forest is as easy as reading a book. Where squatting in the woods is as normal as brushing teeth. There is no place in town for me where my dirty paws are welcome Their Exit signs spell 'Escape' My free and naturalized lifestyle is frowned upon by more than you'd think It's unwanted, uncommon and despite it being the way for hundreds of thousands of years, it holds no place within modern society. A society where birdsong is a nuisance. The rain is tiresome The insects are pests. Ancient, wild foods are only "edible" while chemicals marketed in stores are "food." Dirt is inconvenient- though, did we not all arise from the soil and rock we try so hard to scrub away?
By Amanda Pays4 years ago in Poets
📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 02/05/2026
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