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.

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