"The Woodshed"
©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
     play.

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.