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Springtime here yesterday and today. All my windows are open and the flowering trees are flowering. My sister calls from home with snow on her ground and I recall how angry I felt as a child that the lion of March always crushed the lamb.
The year 2000 was my first spring in the south and it felt like a lucid dream. I still get that feeling. This morning I am not really negotiating the balance of unfinished work. . . I am wandering through a misty backyard, green and with edges of white and palest of pink buds. I am warm from sleep and the coolness of the wetted air reminds me that I am a live and living thing, and that soon, I should awaken.
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