As I looked through boxes, I found myself thinking. I'm tired of the dark and the cold. I'm tired of stale air and abbreviated walks... and then I found this. It is a poem written long ago by a young woman with a similar wish.
It made me realize that I am, who I am. Despite knowing that in the sweltering heat of summer, I will look back and regret this wish. It seems that every year about this time, I wish it anyway.
Listening for Spring
Window cracked open to swirling cold air,
I lay in bed, settled deep in warm hollows and listen.
To silent nights and still mornings.
To churning gusts and crackling winter.
Peace becomes desperation,
Cloaked in frozen dusk.
Still, I listen,
longing for a distant high note,
to start the budding spring,
for the creak of barren branch
weighed down by a winged choir.
Nothing.
I sink back into lethargy,
Eavesdropping on the wind.
Today,
Today!
A chirp, a pipe, a warble, trill.
An aria announcement,
All sullen hearts take flight!
No more craning. No more questioning.
They are here.
Lilting melodies of hope,
Hymns of endurance
Anthems of faith.
Renewed.
I weed the depths of a tired soul,
fall to my knees and thank the Heavens
for feathered, miniature, messengers of spring.
