Pulse

May 31, 2009
By MereChar SILVER, Gwinn, Michigan
MereChar SILVER, Gwinn, Michigan
8 articles 4 photos 11 comments

Awe extends it’s caressing fingers
from the tips of her purple painted toenails
to her electrifying blue eyes.
Shadows cast onto the barren snow-free ground,
and she kneels comfortably
in a faded blue dress
and dirty bare feet.

She tugs distractively at
her hand-made sombrero with a lucky dandelion
gently laid on the brim,
her tight golden curls slightly wind blown,
biting the outside of her lip,
sun lowering in the west,
body quivering from the cold,
face a tight knot of concentration.

Glancing around hurriedly,
not wanting to spare a moment,
she presses her ear longingly
into the dark rich soil,
singing sweetly,
quiet at first, her voice inaudible against the wind
slowly rising
daring to awaken
spring.

The little girl does not rest.
Her voice never reveals
anger or impatience as she crouches for hours,
face tight into the ground,
willing it to live
again.

And then–a reassuring thump
and another, and another.
Earth’s steady heart beat pulsing into her soul.
Satisfied, she allows a small smile to warm her body
and rolls onto her back,
soaking in the last of the sunset
and the miracle of
a steady rhythm of spring.


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