Spring

Oh, to love the world, from a green, sweet place and the quietness of an opening bud! That moment, when the child learns to walk, he’s so surprised! What! I can do this? So must I marvel at the first green of spring and the deep purple of the crocus, all opened and star-like, for us in praise of spring. The sky always clouds over these days, but it’s good to let the sun in just the same. When we walk the trails—so wild and new— I lean to feel the ground beneath my steps. My heart would hurry, it’s so young still, and it loves every green thing!

The woodland speaks: There’s never been a spring that hasn’t brought life back from the dead. To any heart that’s empty, it whispers the times when young love pressed close between the emerge of spring, filling the earth with yes, yes, yes!

• Mary Oliver