spring?

On a yellowing couch
With glass-filtered light streaming over my shoulders,
Outside sap begins its migration upwards
From ground to tip top branches, while
Water moves in an opposite stream
Dripping from every rooftop
From every canopy branch,
Down to the ground into puddles
That wave into pools into streams
Into lakes into rivers into oceans
Into steam into clouds into rain
Into ground again.
Pools of light melt into pools of
Water, which gushes now from everywhere
Into every crevice of the earth,
Returning to some
Primordial wellspring of everlasting life
Where soon it will reignite the flames of the living
As green shoots sneak through soil --
The first sign of spring to come.

Light warms and performs cardiopulmonary
Resuscitation on every
Struggling, suffocating being
Whose wind tunnels have long been frozen
Motionless, stilted by winter's all-
Encompassing blanket.
Vivacity bursts
From every nook and cranny,

Except for here.
Somehow, I remain still
Diaphragm caught between breaths
Still hibernating
Still waiting.

The light takes a little longer
To reach through these walls,
To twirl through my mass of hair
That shields my brain
From all possible incoming inspiration.
Sunshine warms the space around me
Warms my fleshy body
While I still feel the chill freezing deep in my bones.
I sit here shivering
As life blossoms around me:
Me, the last remaining stalagmite
That radiates ice and does not absorb heat;
Me, the naked tree
With absent buds in a field of springing life-pulse;

Me, the stubborn soul
That will not be reborn.