©1998 by Spring
How we waited for that day!
Our first sitting in the woodshed.
A quiet space far from the turmoil of the day.
Somehow our ritual for each spring.
The sound of springbirds was our clue.
Oh yes - red winged blackbirds...
Have a different sound from winter's feathered friends.
We cleaned old firewood and poured a floor...
And knew that despite the wind from open fields...
We'd find the warming rays from morning sun.
And there we sat in quiet communion...
Words never needed to be said.
We'd just stare at nature's gifts and felt the spirit of spring's
The sound of running water...
Tumbling over stones that have felt the wash of many miles...
Drowning the sounds of new inhabitants flying to find the fibers
for new homes.
The focus of our gaze...
The cresent slivers of sun glazed waters
Lost in the curve of a meandering stream.
Eight seasons have come and gone
Since I last felt your presence at my side.
I've dared to know the feelings from past memories.
And so this spring I will walk to that space...
Knowing you have given me the strength to visit again...
A space that I can now leave behind....
And begin to walk a journey of unknown destination.
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This Web site © 1997 by Michelle ( Dragoneyes )