The smell of the Earth brewing,
Under the dead grass.
Muddy snow, cracked ice.
Fresh with the scent of dirt, laden with winter’s toll.
Promising to continue the cycle.
Birds chirping, hidden in a haze from the melt.
Again, we awaken with hope.
Wet and soppy, shivering afresh.
Reborn as the Earth emerges, alive.
The connection unmasked.
As I breath in the rich aroma of the Earth brewing,
A new day begins.
DoRee MelNic 