A dawning of Spring, The tree’s pollen eye-dust spreads free. White paint-stroke wind swirls and sways through the plains, the grass kindly greets in sighing retreat.
Blue skies softly shelter, filling the days with their comforting hues. Sparsely dotted roaming cotton clouds dance as the yellow Sun yawns and spreads its rays, rousing the slumbering bear from his winter den.
Sounds of the hen’s call awaken, a signaling for paper to meet pen. The heart swells and empties just as the flower’s buds lazily fall open at the bidding of the Sun’s young light.
An open world, the never ending wood, A night river flows just beyond the bend, full of salmon fighting upstream from the wrong end. A tender letter penned but not sent. A winged man smiles and whispers visions, guiding my ascent.
Unfortunately, a penned letter is not always sent, just as all the hopeful salmon do not make it back to their springing den. Some sneak by and continue their uphill fight but others are clawed and left stuck within the bear’s teeth, writhing in defeat.