Sunday, March 20, 2016

So early in the spring


Early in the springtime, my lungs need oceans of air. [an everlasting wash of air.]



A huge expanse of sky, where eagles circle...where human eyes can rest on a vast vault of wind-washed blue softened by cloud.

(Do you see her up there, the glorious winged one? Did she hear me speak to her in praise as I moved below, so small and large-hearted through the wildlands?)



Trammeled by months of dimness, small screens, small rooms, small gaze—so close to warmth of hearth, breathing the small air of home—my mind rests on these broad sweeps of land.

The particular beauty of trees on a rise that I have loved for my whole life without ever tiring of their speaking branches, of their shapes curving against the sky, so individual in their ways, complete in themselves.




Before I am ready, I come up against a boundary. [Then the good minute goes.]

It sends my thoughts racing ahead, worrying against peace's edge. Once the boundary-less becomes bound, my large breath begins to shrink...until the wind rattles the grasses, the red-winged blackbirds chirr, and there I am again, back to where I stand.



If you live in a place where the ground does not freeze, then you miss the pleasure of the thaw—that receptive, bodily feel of the earth under your foot yielding once more to your weight, a sensation you may not have even realized you had lost until it is restored to you. It reminds you that the earth is your beloved.


How fair you are, young birch sisters, I think.


Red-osier dogwood, bright kinnikinnick, you that the native peoples honored, I send you good greetings.


O oak-crowned hill, do you feel the reverence with which I approach you? Maybe the rustle of your leaves as I pass is for me.  



On this day, you feel once again in conversation with this earth, like catching up with a relative you have not spoken with for many months, though you were sometimes lonely.

It is more than walking on. Together you walk, reunited.

[Two in the campagna.]

3 comments:

  1. I too have been enjoying the seasons changing here: I thought spring coming all of a sudden like it seemed to to be too fast and I'm glad it got a bit colder again. Nearly one year since I came to this area for the first time. What a crazy year it has been...
    Sometimes I wish you'd place a caption where the places are in your photos, because it is possible I can go visit them sometime.
    With spring coming on and my lease going to end, I am considering where I'm moving to next...we'll see. I have been glad I came up here: it has been a very life-continuing journey. I have had a very different time that I had imagined or hoped for: but it has been very genuine and real, and that is what matters. The Universe has different ideas than we do.
    Best always,
    Reifyn

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Reifyn, this was all at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum in Chaska. Free gate admission on Thursdays through March 31 if you're heading out, it is a beautiful place as you see. All the best on the next step of your journey, wherever the compass points you.

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