Emerald Curtain
The entrance to Martin’s Winding,
my winding that I call my winding,
decorated with emeralds and diamonds,
the camouflage covering up winter’s hoar,
makes way for the inundation of spring
with its determined advancing,
flaunting its jewelry for enchanted spectators
as the curtain opens up for curious travelers,
ushering them in to see the vibrations of spring,
to smell the perfumed winds filling the air,
the palpitating hearts of the floral children,
the birth of the greenery from its embryonic state,
the resurrection of life anew that’s hidden
behind the emerald curtain.
Through the winding and past the drawn curtain,
surrounded by nature and her rhythmic breathing,
we see the inversion of her physicality,
her inside opening up before our eyes,
the blood rushing through her veins,
her secrets that she kept during the winter months,
revealing themselves through the hands of time.
We see the emeralds and all nature’s finery
covering up the ugliness of winter’s wrath,
the days that left footprints in our sand,
that we thought to be never covered up,
and how the trees were stripped of their jewelry,
as winter’s wrath hung on for an eternity.
At last. We see nature breathing again.
We see Martin’s Winding all dressed up,
her emeralds glistening in the sun,
her entrance in a deep vibrant green,
and her heart opened up to
wish the passers-by a scenic and safe passage.
