So many words that get stuck in the back of my brain…for there is always so little time to write. To breathe. To pummel myself into the world.

But it’s happening. Like oxygen and air, the earth is springing back.

All those cliched notions, all those fast, sweeping motions, the great camera of the mind, the rhythm of time, the radical regurgitation of life. To newness.

To life spilling out in waves and in torrents, to colors popping out of the earth without fear, to rain and sliding sunlight that begins to pierce through my wintered skin, to small gestures that open large windows, to love that sits in the creases and folds. To spring, to clouds, to rapidly greening hillsides. To adventure, at last, again. To following that road. Winding, twisting, catapulting. To possibility. Ageless and wild.

 

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