There should be some words here. Maybe something to sum up the activities of the week? Perhaps something to project into the weekend? Funny thing is, I am just smack dab in the moment and a bit without the verbal component.
If I could share birdsong with you here– the way the birds sing as we walk through the grass, around the bend, into the blossoming bushes– I surely would.
Spring is on. She is here, flouncing about in her party dress.
Always a season of lightheadedness for me — always. Probably why poets get their best stuff in this time of blossoms cracking open on the breeze. There’s a sugaring that could be done if you could extract the sweetness from the air and distill it into letter form.
That’s well beyond my scope, I’m afraid– so all I can do is share these snapshots and suggest we all lie back on the grass, watch the clouds and try to figure out whose song is whose.