Wind in my face to a place of rest. A calmness comes over me, soothing, relaxing, restoring my soul. Quiet except for the sound of Spring. Birds chirping. A slight breeze blowing. Escaping the drama of the world, ending with wind in my face going home.
Ed. Note: March 21, 2021 is International Poetry Day.
Spring air coaxes me on as I lean into the curves. The park is filled with families, kids in the playgrounds. Overhead, an airplane tows a glider, ready to be released to near total freedom, but it must return to earth. The motorcycle awaits. It is the total freedom machine.
Today is the last day of November. The 30th. It seems like the year has gone by so fast, and yet perilously slow as caution and quarantine take priority.
The weather has finally turned. What was a comfortable temperature in the low to mid fifties, is now in the mid to low thirties, raining and forecasts of the first snow that will slow down traffic and cause a little havoc on the roads and highways.
For the most part, the flowerbeds have been cleaned. The hydrangea have been cut back and hostas trimmed of their wilting leaves. It is hibernation time for the plants, and feels the same within the house.
It is a curious time going into winter. Outside activities are being replaced with indoors. Daylight is dwindling still, and yet only three weeks remain before this globe of ours starts its path around the sun to a place when a minute here and there of daylight will be added to our days. I am already anxious for that.
The flowers are well on their way pushing up through the mulch. The trees have displayed their flowers and now leaves of green are protruding from the stems. Bird watchers report the northern migration and so, the Hummingbird feeder has been installed. The magic of the hummers and their territorial dance is just a short time away, for it is the beginning of Spring.