come, spring
Bare limbs and a cold wind howl.
A winter vacancy.
In a land covered in seeds
Branches still reach for old leaves.
stand still
It is hard to know if here could be anywhere. How can you tell? It is where I am. I carry some sadness with both of my hands. It is about the amount of a spoonful and the color of a mountain. crows yelling flower smelling bikes belling They've cleared so many trees from the park and there's no telling if that was the right thing to do. Depends on who you ask. A lack remains a lack. old growth slow growth the air feels rich and wise years and years and years to shape the rings funny how many things you still may not know about home an entire effort may be felled in an instant only circles left to inspect I remember. I remember. Through the trees that still stand- the sea. If you save a capsized boat - if you can make it float- it is yours to keep. The water is moving. The water is calling. The water is deep.
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