15: Spring

Today was the first day of green – despite the hail, slushing rain, or wind – today I saw the first thin branch of spring.

The world beneath finally pushing its way up through the brown dead of winter to which I smiled.

It only took a little warmth, some moist reminders, and light – longer lingering hours of light.

And out came a mountain range of green all along our grey soaked valley.

My spirit rested upon seeing it – a deep sigh and silent thanks. I love the hills dressed this way.

I wondered, while looking at spring out the bus window, if people are too much winter. Hidden shoots of colour laying just below a thin layer of weighted dirt, desiring the sun. We are not green grass – we linger in doubt and worry – missing out. We hold too close our little flags of colour, wanting them to be seen in the best light – in the best of lights.

I am imagining the shine – the glorious shine, the many faceted beauty of this world if only we could sprout forth like grass and cover the worldside with all the colours in us bestowed.

Today was the first day of green – despite the hail, slushing rain, or wind – today I saw the first thin branch of a spring.

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