What comes back. What we let back in. The long slow work of re-entering our own lives.

Return

A spring orbit. Something is loosening. This week we turn toward what is coming back, and what we are finally ready to let come back.

Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,

hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees 

Early Spring

Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.

The Thaw

Write about a return. Not a triumphant one. A small one.

Monday, 1 September 2014

I brewed some coffee. I savored a sip,
The toddler is down for a nap, but,
Four-year old zeal entreats me to play,

Duty called, to go outside.
Rode bikes,  the entire length of the street
And back again.
Saw insects, crawling, fast and low,
Saw grasses, trees, and the seeds they throw,
Came back to find that cup.
Coffee, rich, and it was still warm.