Thursday, April 18, 2013

Spring, the season I awake or wake up and live



flower girl



I can hear it clearly.  Spring is, singing for me, calling to me.  Completely distracted by the sounds, I am being pulled away from here.  I will unfold myself and get up.  I will stretch the restlessness from my bones as I walk out to meet her.  The song she sings is about new beginnings.  It awakens every sleeping thing in her path.  She supplants the dead.  This freshness is all I have hoped for.  Winter took my breath away.  Spring gives it back.  She awakens me, to me.  And now calls me back upstairs.  I have gardens to wake up, and seeds to plant.  I will smile all season long, like a hibiscus

flower at full bloom. 
There is so much to be done and I can never just watch.


www.flickr.com 

Winter turned me around and pushed me down the spiral steps, to where I live.  Then I closed my door and turned up the heat.  I hide here every year.  Just like the people of Tornado Alley hiding in their sellers to wait out one storm after another.  In this place where I keep fluffy green blankets and a small library of the best books I have ever read.  Here is where once a year I become frozen.  Curled up, warm and looking out of my window.



A Waking Dream Art Print
Carla Dearman

I watch Autumn sing her bitter sweet lullaby, its beauty so enthralling.  Everything and everyone succumbs to it.  To soon Winter, whose love is akin to death, emerges.  Encases me in my apartment and tangos for me.  Cold perfect beauty, I will not dance with him and I have locked all the doors and all the windows.  Halloween, Thanks giving day, my birthday, your birthday, Merry Christmas and Valentine’s Day are all special distractions between the autumn and the spring, between then and now.

Archie A. Young


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