The willows didn’t bud. However, you can feel their wanting to do so as you walk past them. Their branches hang to commune with the rest of the verdure throbbing the air with a desire to push through the decay yellow and compost brown of winter nearing its past. I am ready, too.
I don’t hang to commune, I bend at the knees and thank them for giving me no complaints. Observed from the right angle spring can almost be seen emerging.
Not quite, but just quite enough to connect to the hope the robins flew in yesterday.
Dystopia, today, feels like the calm in the eye of the hurricane. A sailor knows to beware, a landlubber at sea might be lulled to security.
I don’t feel secure, but I do feel the abundance around me waiting to emerge and embrace every sense I have.
Like a child around the corner readied to jump out at an unsuspecting parent or maybe that immediate moment right after the jump, this fright we feel is really just temporary cosmetics for the laughter that will ensue after we catch our breath and our heart beats become regular.
A brief chat via text with my brother informs me he is in lockdown. Never news I’d have thought would bring relief. It does. This is for sure just that immediate moment after the child jumps.
The willow didn’t bud, but it will. Like breath will be caught. Like heartbeats will become regular. And it will be Glorious.
In response to Eugi’s prompt: https://amanpan.com/2020/03/15/eugis-weekly-prompt-glorious-march-16-2020/