Longing to Breath More Deeply

I grew up in the North

and I miss the scent of the air

on that first day of true spring

not the one decided by the calendar

or the equinox

but that first thaw

when the only evidence of melting snows

are the little dirty white clumps here and there

among the wet dull flattened grass

and the little streams

that wind their way under

pooling here and there

at low spots

otherwise unnoticeable

The air so cool
yet not quite crisp

but filled with so fresh a scent

A scent that cannot be bottled and sold

in spray cans on supermarket shelf

labeled Spring Freshness

This scent makes you want to fling open

every window in the house

to rid it of the winter air

that smelled fresh enough

until you walked outside

and breathed in true freshness

The air on those days seems to bounce

with particles of Life's potential

it seems to move to the beat

of invisible wings

and it seems to dance

and twirl with joy

as it touches barren trees

and empty meadows

wooing them from winter slumber

and calling for them

to join in the dance of spring

I miss that scent

a scent embedded in my memory

from a childhood
long ago lost

to a less sensitive adulthood

but every once in a while

even stuck here in the South

when I am outside

at just the right time

on just the right winter day

in just the right weather

I catch that scent on the breeze

and even though

it is not the first day of true spring

that scent still stirs within me
the promise of Life's potential

refreshing

what has fallen asleep

in winter's grip of death

and it woos me

from the complacency

of my modern human state

reminding me to join

in creation's dance

and for a moment

restored to the innocence of my birth
I am swept away

What refreshment

just a breath of such air can bring

If only my lungs had a greater capacity

perhaps I could then breathe deeply enough

to grasp the Truth

of all that I have lost touch with

but like all of creation

must have

once

been aware…