Friday, May 6, 2011


I settle in to the Green Mountains. They receive me with water, in all its forms, and with leaves budding all around--promise of spring. If I am to understand this transition from one season to the next as symbolic of my own reluctant transformation, then there is hope yet of the full bloom for which I have prepared myself.

Leaf buds hold tight to branches still brittle from winter's long cold, but they begin, slowly, hesitantly, to unfurl. Tulips and daffodils shyly appear in clusters along the edge of a lawn or near a doorway, and though the temperature is chilly, the sun graces them at intervals, spills its light over them with its usual ardor.

Birds flit around the periphery of my awareness and  catch the attention of dogs that stretch, awaken, and begin to shed their winter weight and coats. The promise is there. Evidence of this change is everywhere. Believe in it, I whisper, and I am speaking to the air. To the sky. To my own trembling heart. 

1 comment:

  1. Lovely. You channel words from some great poetry deity. It never ceases to amaze me. I am glad you are enjoying your new home. I'm feeling a transformation coming on myself. I look forward to seeing you in around a month and having lunch or coffee or coffee and lunch and sharing transformation stories.