Waking up and shaking off cold, wet days.
Opening the windows after too much time inside.
Out from under heavy clothes and quilts.
Remembering life renews with no effort on my part..
Sorting through cloth and stories.
Turning to beginning again with old and new friends.
Here is a poem your post put me in mind of by Linda Pastan titled Spring:
ReplyDeleteJust as we lose hope she ambles in
A late guest dragging her hem of wild flowers
her tattered veil of mist, of light rain blowing her dandelion breath in our ears.
And we forgive her.
Turning from our chilly winter ways, we throw off our faithful sweaters and open our arms.
Oh my, Jan, that's just the way I feel. Thank you!
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