Way back in the day, people danced in the springtime, striking the ground with flowering branches. They jumped and stomped to rouse their bodies and to wake Mother Earth from her winter slumber. This morning, I heard the peepers singing, saw the buds swelling, and with a hand pressed against the beehive, I felt the vibrations rising inside. It's coming alright.
All togther: the peepers, the peach blossoms, the bees, and the farmers - our workaday pitch is rising to sing in the sunshine, sing in the green grass, sing in the pinks and yellows of a new season.