Thank you for this day made
of wind and rain and sun and the scent
of old-fashioned lilacs. Thank you

for the pond and the slippery tadpole
and the wild iris that opened beside the pond
last week, so pale, so nearly purple,

their stems already flagged and bent.
Thank you for the yellow morels hiding in the field grass,
the ones we can only see when we are already

on our knees. And thank you for the humming
that rises out of the morning as if mornings
are simply reasons to hum. What a gift,

this being alive, this chance to encounter the world.
What a gift, this being a witness to spring—
spring in everything. Spring in the way

that we greet each other. Spring in the way the golden eagle
takes to the thermals and spirals up to where
we can barely see the great span of its wings.

Spring in the words we have known
since our births. Like glory. Like celebrate.
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer “In Case I Forget to Say It Enough” from All the Honey

…maybe I should just say

how I wish I had a voice
like the meadowlark’s,

sweet, clear, and reliably
slurring all day long

its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks, its
alleluia. Alleluia, oh Lord.
~Mary Oliver from “While I Am Writing A Poem to Celebrate Summer, the Meadowlark Begins to Sing”

Sing to the God who turns our sighs into a song
Sing to the One who mends our broken hearts with music.
Sing to the One who fills our empty hearts with love.
Sing to the One who gives us light to step into the darkest night.
Sing to the God who turns our sighs into a song.
~Susan Boersma

Each spring day begins new possibility
with a sigh, a deep breath and thankfulness-

even when there are tears, sometimes heartbreak,
and flat out fear of what may come next.

Even so,
through it all
I hum along in celebration,
singing a song of praise, an alleluia
that reminds me why I am
and who I live for.

All is well,
it is well with my soul.