Marrows of Spring- Michael Erickson

Harrow me to the bone,

And lay open the wounds of winter.

Wash clean this face,

So long buried beneath a darkening plain.

Let this soul heal from the inside out,

And renew as the bulbs of spring take to stalk and leaf.

Call down with sun and warm rain,

Nourish me in rich sweet earth.

Bring forth my marrow,

that I may grow.

Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.

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