Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Moving On

Contemplating Departure
Today she flew.
One last breath...
and gone.

She lies at the feet
of her namesake trees...

Today she flew.
One last breath...
and gone.

Monday, February 10, 2020


Something's in the air.

Can you hear it?
Bird song, the gentle crooning of geese taking a leisurely trip north to their breeding grounds.

All last week dozens and dozens of geese have visited our small pond each day. Perhaps a hundred or more at a time. I've seen much larger gatherings of geese, but on larger bodies of water. A hundred geese on our little pond seems like much more.

The movement of the geese comes as the daylight hours grow longer. The air has taken on a softness, even when it's cold. The earth hums with anticipation as sap moves through roots and slowly up stem and trunk. One can almost hear the crackling as leaf buds swell on tree twigs and branches stretch.

Already crocus are sending up sharp spikes of green, foretelling the coming of bright yellow, purple and white flowers.

And over here, one brave little snowdrop blooms. I had planted half a dozen or so in that spot a few years ago, expecting them to expand their numbers. But only one has survived. One brave little snowdrop pokes through the frosty soil to pull spring up from the roots and into the air. "Snow piercers" they are called, because they will bloom in the snow.

Spring will come. As assuredly as the sun will rise. I'm not sure what form it will take this year, but it will come. So say the crowds of geese moving northward, encouraged by the Sun as it moves higher in the sky.

And so says the lone little snowdrop bowing reverently to the light.