The Surrender to Spring
The chill demanded tightened fists, a tightened scarf around my cheeks. Its frost, like fear, deceit cashmere in shadows.
It seems as though anxiety makes home a cold society…and lies awake in shivering and shallow.
Yet as the morning breaks and with it sunlight gently takes away the tense, it seems this warmth is really, grace.
Grace with which to operate, to view, to love, invigorate. Grace with which to saturate this day.
I watch intently crystal hairs that weaken, melt and drip and bare, the blades beneath their outerwear so blithe.
They are still, as they await the transformation. They unveil the season coming, and a brighter shade of life.
Chelan 