round and round she goes...

like a slow winter thaw that softens under my feet, the sorrow that i had pushed down like a buried stone, has purposefully risen to the surface.

and although that former firmness under foot was more practical, the slow sinking into the muck of emotion reminds me to slow down and watch where i step.

the smell of mother earth, musty and rich, is the gathering of all that has lived and died before me.

and, too, my own sorrow is rich with past failures and lessons learned from falling. it is that waiting moment, no longer winter but not yet springtime that beckons my notice. it asks to consider the cold winter past, but also to hope again in the rebirth of spring.

it may be that my tears are but my soul's purging of cold winter nights. my grief simply the passing of bitter waters gathered in reservoirs of dark winter days. there is no use in resisting such flowing.

the release, the admission, the hoping for sunshine's extension, and for the fragrant spawning of spring is the cycle of rebirth that renews.

it cools us in the scorching heat of summer, and softens us to remember that the twilight of autumn is only months and moments away.

remember the winter, drink deeply of spring. for no matter the forecast for today, this, too, shall pass...