Everything As It Was

Perhaps as leaves of cherished memory pass into thin black air never to return to the trees that created them, their faint leavings linger on in bright, abundant fields of spring wildflower and inspire small movements in the hush-hush snowy realms of frozen winter grasses.

Maybe all that has past is not a diminishing road but rather an open ocean, and as our dreams reassemble, blinking like ships lost at sea, they each carry a forgotten treasure from shore to shore, from generation to generation – dear and inescapable, greeting us in the cool breeze of the open window each evening.