In-Betweens of Mud Season

Change of season: vital transition:
Material transfusion: new juice. 

How does the introvert welcome that? 
Mixed.  Don’t make me give up
heavy curtains pulled to nurture
my wild interior!  My own twigs being burned
for my inner heat and observation.

Observe what comes up
from winter’s meditation. 
Attention to what comes up:
ground seethes: undigested.  
Knuckles and roots.  Women’s bony
fingers scraping for their rings;
from the mud everything breathes.

What bones rise alongside tulip shoots;
what shame to resolve; what liquid transitions, 
connective tissue, whatever rises, as gunk 
or random stuff — all holds clues.  

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