May 23rd, 2019

It hovered just above freezing last night. Maybe that is a sign of spring.

When I stop to consider, it seems as though I will never again feel the sun on my bare arms. It’s as though

the moment

has always been winter.

Summer is so distant a memory, I am uncertain it is a memory at all. Maybe it’s  something I read about , something I experienced in my imagination.

Come spring, come spring is a chant in the background of these days.


Posted in: Journal, Poetry

2 thoughts on “May 23rd, 2019 Leave a comment

  1. You do mean March 23, don’t you? Or are the time zones more diverse than I ever knew?

    Yes, though–this time of year…my tai chi instructor says that as the days lengthen, the body expects more energy; but the air and earth are still cold, so the chi gets “confused.” I have that sense of confused chi at present myself. (And the days here are shorter, and less cold, than they are in Norway right now.)

    Rest easy; summer will get here on its own time.


I'd love to read whatever thoughts this might spark for you.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s