Life is for Living

So strange the thoughts I am having, brought on by the music I've been listening to, and events I have been living through, I think. I feel like I'm walking through tomorrow, while my eyes are still in yesterday. It is something to ponder on. I am wrestling with nostalgia for things I have yet to experienced. All the while I am feeling the desire to live my life intensely.

Though I pull myself back into today the strangeness is still here still. A change of season is in the air. There is a soft happiness in breathing now that God's promise of spring is almost fulfilled, you know, one season follows another as long as time shall endure. I breath deeply of the bluish and yellow aura of tinted  air, It is the time of turning and having a fresh start, and of re-making the old me into a more "on purpose" person, when I walk I need to dent the ground. Life is for living and knowing you have done it!

I want the reds in my life to be scarlet and the yellows, to be lemon and the blue, must be pure and deep, for I deem blue to be truth, red to be passion, yellow is all the good stuff, now  mix those three and have the complete scope of a full life. And the hand stirring these Aurora Borealis thoughts is the "Maker" of the red, yellow and the blue and of me. When I let Him do the mixing of the colors of my life they stay pure and brilliant, but when my hand does the stirring, muddy happens too often.

Time to tame these thoughts and do the next thing, which is…………I'll have to think about it!

Goodbye to February

I said goodbye today to the ghost of February. I know there are a few more days to go, four to be exact, it is not leap year but I am jumping over time and ending up in March.


March offers the promise of a prelude to spring. My jonquils have big fat bulbs of yellow just ready to protrude through the green encasing them, and I am sure that somewhere in this neighborhood there is crocus blooming.



My Pussy Willow has little white kittens on several branches, and there is red on some of the tips of branches of other bushes growing in my yard. I am so ready. I do not want to rush my year by, but just give me some warm days a little sweat and I will let the world slow down and pass with an easy pulse. I taste lemonade moments in my freshly painted swing, open book in lap, and heavy sighs by nature, not from exertion, my kind of day.



Later in a warm March when my yard warms from the ground up, I welcome the strangest flying troupe, little white winged creatures by the hundreds flying in erratic circles, you walk through them they do not bite or sting, but they will enter every opening in your head. There is no taste in the mouth only slight grit; no smell in the nose just a un-scratch-able tickle; no pain in the eye just cloudy tears; no stopped up ears, just the silent flutter of soft vibrations.



Bring on the winds of March, blow through the stark limbs of my trees, take the last of the dead leaves, shake their roots and soften the earth for renewed growth. Comb through the tired grasses; untangle their blades from a deep winters sleep. Clean the air of soggy cold mists, blow in shots of sunshine and sweep the ragged clouds from the skies. Do your work wind, but do not over do, stay gentle, bring in spring on an easy rain, then push the long legs of the sun's rays in unhurried walks all over my day.



I go to sleep tonight with no promise of warmth, or sunshine or even of tomorrow, but I know season follows season and I am so ready for the next one, I will enjoy it with all that is in me if allowed, as I unfold just like the jonquils under the pussy willow. I will push through the layer of strain that encases me during cold weather. I will relax from toe to head; and if it is warm enough for their translucent return, I will walk in the midst of white winged creatures and be content!