That time of year when
daylight reaches the hours of creation,
when blood pumps to my fingertips
and ideas from my mind.
It’s the time of year when
writing does not just become a joy,
but becomes a witness of joy.
The seeds that were planted in the previous season
have now sprouted,
and new flowers whose names I know not
have burst into life with brilliance.
Thank what gods may be,
or thank the sun and stars,
for once again;
it has begun.
© Blake Leitch October 6, 2015