New Spring (glimpse of a short story in progress)

It is come. She has been asleep so long that she cannot rightfully orient herself with the day or time, but is finally pulled up by her instincts and maybe something more. She is a bear, waking from long hibernation. Limbs are stiff; she stretches. She notices that her hair has grown quite long and pulls it up on the top of her head and ties it into a temporary knot. The strong smell of new buds entices her out into the garden. Falling on her knees, she draws in the Spring air, still crisp with moisture, and laughs quietly. After running her fingers over the dew soaked grasses, she forcefully pierces the sacred ground with her bare hand and retrieves a fistful of the mythical soil. As it slips loosely through her open fingers, a single golden larva catches the morning light. She takes it gently between her teeth and bends her neck far back, delivering the worm to the sky and waits for the phoenix to accept it. This is her offering.