for a couple of weeks
spring had begun

all the flowers in my garden bloomed
the trees were white and smelled of glory

but something whispered
for me to take it slow

to open up, slowly
to add wood to the fire, slowly

but I am a burning blaze
so this message sat uncomfortable with me

but I know now
I can handle feeling

feeling so—
trusting so—
trusting me.

this is what winter taught me.

but Mars came strongly
and then Venus swayed in
so the fire could hardly be contained

like in a dried forest
any gust of wind
any cinder still quietly smoldering—

oh, stop your nonsense
you do not have to burn everything now

I said:
trust that there will be times and times

your hurry reeks of fear—
fear to miss
fear to lose
fear to still.

so I did.

the planets were testing me
not in how much I can fight for what I want
but in trusting them
to bring the best time.

and then it snowed in April.

I looked around in admiration—
how even the Earth had heard their plans.

bewildered, bewitched
I looked around

to see that the flowers were still blooming,
and the trees were still white—
even more than before.